Survival
by 3rdgal
Summary: After a string of rough cases, Charlie and Don decide to take a vacation, only things go horribly wrong...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters and I don't make any money off of them.

**A/N:** Thanks to ritt, the world's best beta ever. I'd like to dedicate this to my abettors- Ritt, Sin, Em, Z, and Mags. I don't remember who mentioned this idea first, although I'm pretty sure it was Mags that said, "Don't put anymore ideas in her head!" Just remember Mags, you and Z can fight over who gets to make him all better at the end.

"I'm glad we decided to do this, Don."

"You're only saying that because _I'm_ carrying the heaviest pack," Don growled playfully at his little brother.

"You caught on to that, huh?" Charlie teased as he knelt next to the crystal clear, rapidly flowing river. He glanced up at his brother who was leaning against a tree, his eyes closed as the warmth of the sun bathed his face. "Seriously, we've both been needing a break."

"Yeah," Don sighed, wishing Charlie would stop mentioning that fact every hour or so. They were on vacation to relax and forget about the horrible wave of cases they'd recently endured, so he didn't know why Charlie kept bringing them up. "We _can_ talk about other things, Buddy."

"Can we?" Charlie asked doubtfully. Don opened his eyes and stared at his brother, who quickly averted his gaze. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded, Don. I'm sorry."

"No," Don said as he walked to the water's edge and knelt next to the younger man. "I know what you mean. The past few weeks have been really rough on us." He lazily trailed his hand through the swift current, watching as mini-whirlpools formed around his fingers. "I wasn't the easiest person to get along with, was I?"

"You were under a lot of stress," Charlie offered. "I understood that." At his older brother's questioning look, he grinned. "Maybe not so much at the time. But I do now." He placed a hand on Don's shoulder and squeezed. "I_ really_ do."

"Thanks," Don whispered with a grateful smile on his face. "So, are we going to stay here all day, or keep hiking?"

"I was thinking we'd go across the river and up the mountain a bit." Charlie pointed to a clearing on the closest ridge. "We should be able to make that by nightfall. I'm guessing it's got an incredible view of the sky at night."

Don looked at the ridge and then back to the river. "The current's pretty swift," he commented. "How do you propose we cross it?"

"I checked our map, and the river gets wider and shallower a few hundred yards downstream. We should be able to wade across."

"We'll check it out and see," Don said. "But I don't want to wind up going for a long, unwanted swim, either."

"Too bad," Charlie laughed.

"What do you mean?"

"I overheard a couple of my students talking in class one day. Remember that experiment we did in Larry's office? The one where you got soaked?"

"Hard to forget," Don snorted.

"Well, they were talking about how hot you looked. I believe you even inspired them to look into some sort of wet tee shirt fund raiser."

"_What?_" the older man asked in shock. "Tell me you're kidding..."

Charlie threw up his hands and grinned. "Okay, okay – I was kidding."

"Good," Don sighed with relief.

"_I_ suggested the fund raising idea!" Charlie exclaimed as he leaped to his feet and sprinted away from the water's edge.

"Get back here, you little creep!" Don yelled as he launched himself after the young professor.

Charlie laughed as he ran toward the tree line, knowing he could play ring around the tree until Don finally admitted defeat. He had just passed the first cluster of pine trees, when he heard a faint whooshing noise. His mind was still trying to deduce what the sound was, when another, louder sound brought him to a screeching halt.

"Ahh!" Don cried as his shoulder smacked into a tree. He leaned against the tree, his mind too stunned to process what had just happened. All he knew was that his right shoulder was screaming in agony. As he tried to roll away from the trunk to get a better look, a sharp, gut-wrenching pain shot through his body, causing him to cry out again.

"Don?" Charlie called frantically as he sprinted to his brother's side. "What hap-" The younger man stopped short as he spotted an arrow protruding from the back of Don's shoulder. "Oh my God," he breathed as he moved closer to his brother's side. Charlie glanced up, his chest tightening at the look of distress on the other man's face. "Don?"

The agent groaned in response, but kept his eyes clenched shut. His forehead was creased with lines of pain, and his breathing consisted of shallow puffs through his parted lips. Don's body seemed to want to sag to the ground in pain, but his shoulder wouldn't budge. Charlie leaned in to take a closer look and couldn't hold back a gasp as he saw where the head of the arrow disappeared into the tree trunk.

"Charlie?" Don panted, drawing the younger man out of his trance.

Charlie quickly wrapped his arms around his brother's waist and held him upright in an effort to take the strain off of the injured joint. "I've got you," he promised as his eyes darted around, searching for anything that might be of use. Charlie felt Don's body slipping in his grasp, so he bent his knee against the tree, giving his brother a makeshift stool to prop on. The agent gratefully let his weight settle on his brother's knee, ignoring the bite of the rough bark as his cheek scraped against the tree. He slowly opened his eyes and let his gaze drift down to his shoulder. He immediately regretted the decision as a wave of nausea washed over him.

"Charlie," he panted. His brother had already interpreted the signs of distress and was quickly but carefully turning Don's head away from the injured joint. He rubbed his brother's shoulder as the older man emptied the contents of his stomach onto the ground.

"Shh," Charlie soothed. "Try to take some deep breaths. Breathe through your nose. It's okay." He kept mumbling every reassuring, comforting phrase he could think of in an attempt to calm his big brother.

"Thanks," Don whispered as he rested his forehead against the trunk. "Got any water?"

Charlie glanced over to where the two freshly filled canteens rested by the edge of the river. "They're over there," he gestured with his head. "Can you hold yourself up while I get them?"

"I think so," Don said as he shifted his weight off of Charlie's knee and onto his own two feet. "Just hurry, okay?"

Charlie moved as quick as lightning, grabbing both containers and both of their packs and racing back to his brother's side. He slid his knee back in place just as Don's strength was giving out. He started to hand Don the water before it dawned on him that it was his brother's right shoulder that was immobilized. Glancing at the tremors in his brother's left hand, Charlie gently pushed it back to rest at Don's side and held the canteen to Don's mouth. "I've got it," he told him. "Go slowly."

Don drank his fill and turned his head away to indicate that he was finished. "So," he said, trying to keep his voice as even as possible. "What do we do now?"

Charlie's heart sank as he realized that he had no idea.

--

"Damn," Ralph Monroe swore to himself as he studied the two men down the mountain and across the river from him. _Well, this is exactly what I needed,_ he thought sarcastically as he set his composite bow down and pulled out a pair of binoculars.

He scanned the riverbank until he landed on the two men. Bringing the lenses into focus, he studied their actions. The older man had been hit with an arrow and seemed to be leaning against- no, wait! He was pinned to the tree by the arrow? Monroe felt only a slight twinge of empathy before turning his attention to the uninjured man. He was providing his companion with support – both physical and emotional, if the movement of his lips and the injured man's nodding was any sign.

_They must be close,_ he mused. _That could come in handy._

Sighing, the sandy haired man dressed in camouflage picked up his bow and quiver of arrows, slinging them on his back and heading for his cabin. Monroe hadn't meant to hit either one of the two men, only scare them off into the opposite direction, but the older man had moved right into the arrow's path as it had shot away from the bow. _Too late to look back now,_ he thought. _Just focus on solving the problem at hand._

He took his time as he walked the short distance back to his cabin, knowing that neither one of the men across the river would be going anywhere – the older because he couldn't, and the younger because he wouldn't leave his friend. That left him plenty of time to retrieve his rifle and handgun from his home before going back to clean up the problem.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

"I suppose we should start by getting you away from the tree," Charlie suggested. "Should we slide you off the arrow?"

Don gave him an incredulous look. "No, that's not a good idea. Aside from the fact that it would hurt like hell, we need to..." Don swallowed down another bout of nausea, "...Leave the arrow in there. It'll help control the bleeding."

Charlie's eyes widened in shock. "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack," Don nodded. "Check it out and see if you can tell how deep it went into the tree."

Charlie moved around to the injured shoulder and softly squeezed Don's right hand. "I don't want to hurt you."

Don gave his little brother a warm smile. "I know you don't, Buddy. It has to be done, though." He nodded encouragingly. "Go on – I'll be okay."

Charlie gulped nervously as he leaned as close to the tree and his brother's shoulder as he dared to get. "I can't really tell from here," he said. "I need you to... I mean, can you..." He met his brother's eyes and barely managed to hold back his tears. "Can you slide away from the tree a little bit? I can't see the arrow with you flush against the tree."

Don took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and, pressing both hands against the trunk, levered himself away from the tree by about two inches. "How's that?" he panted.

Charlie comfortingly squeezed the back of his brother's neck. "That's good." He stuck his face into the open space and carefully slid his fingers into the gap, feeling along the edge of the arrow. He frowned as he studied the entry point, realizing that it was far enough into the tree that he could see no sign of the head. He felt the shaft and was disappointed to discover that it was composed of a sturdy metal compound. "Damn," he swore.

"What?"

"It's in there pretty deep." Charlie met his big brother's gaze as uncertainty filled his mind. "It's metal, so I can't break it off. What should I do?"

"We need to get it out," Don insisted.

"I could try wiggling it loose," the younger man suggested.

"I don't think I'd make it through that without passing out," Don told him. "Wait, I've got Granddad's old hunting knife in my bag. See if you can carve out the wood around the arrow. Then maybe we could pull it out."

Charlie nodded and began rummaging through Don's pack. "I guess I'll stop complaining about you getting Granddad's cool stuff," Charlie said as he found the object he was searching for, as well as a first aid kit. "I would have forgotten to bring it." Carrying the knife and two Tylenol, he returned to Don's side and winced at the lines of pain on his brother's face. "Boy, would we have been in trouble then," he tried to joke.

Don laughed softly as he pressed his head against the tree. "Thanks, Buddy. I needed that."

"It's the least I can do." He picked up the canteen from where it rested on the ground. "Take these pain pills for me. I know they won't kick in right away, but at least they'll be in your system when we get through here." He placed the pills in Don's mouth and held the container to his lips, making sure his brother washed them down with a couple of extra swallows of water. He took a few sips too, before capping the canteen and dropping it back onto the ground. "Ready?"

Don steeled himself in anticipation of the upcoming torture, determined to make this as easy on Charlie as he could. "Yeah," he nodded. "Go for it." As soon as the knife slid between the wood and arrow, it sent a harsh vibration down the length of the shaft, and re-ignited the fire in his shoulder. Despite his best intentions, Don couldn't help swearing in pain.

"I'm sorry," Charlie said tremulously, pausing in his actions to study his brother's face.

"S'okay, Buddy," Don gasped. "Keep going. Don't stop till you're through."

The younger man nodded and returned to the brutal task at hand, sliding the blade along the shaft and slowly chipping away at the wood surrounding it. More than once, he had to blink back tears of frustration, knowing that he was the cause of his brother's distress but understanding that he had to get Don free no matter what.

Somewhere along the line, in an attempt to distract his mind, Charlie thought about where the arrow had come from. A careless hunter who had mistaken them for a deer? But wouldn't the hunter have come to check on his prey, or to help them if he realized what he had hit? Maybe he ran because he was scared? Could someone have shot his brother, realized their mistake, and left them to fend for themselves? Charlie hated to think anyone could be that callous, and then another thought entered his mind. What if it wasn't an accident? What if the shooter _had_ hit what he was aiming for? It seemed unlikely to Charlie, especially since no other arrows had been fired at them. Still, he couldn't stop the uneasy feeling that was starting to spread through his gut...

--

Monroe carefully opened the front door of his cabin and quickly hit the switch to deactivate his security system. He gently laid his bow and arrows on the table in two-room cabin, and walked to the kitchen area. Although he didn't foresee having to hunt down his prey, his father had always taught him 'better safe than sorry', so he loaded a pack with several bottles of water, a few cans of beans, and some jerky. Monroe moved into the bedroom and grabbed his nine-millimeter handgun and a two spare clips, along with a box of shells for his rifle, tossing them into his pack and zipping it closed. He shouldered his pack and rested the rifle on his shoulder as he exited through the front door, making sure to reset his security system.

He quietly hiked around to the back of the cabin where an old, dilapidated looking barn stood. The doors were cracked open and a familiar unpleasant smell assaulted his senses. _Gary must be cooking right now,_ he thought as he poked his head through the open door. "Yo!" he called out.

A blond man wearing a breathing mask appeared from behind an elaborate looking device, and held up a hand. "Give me a minute," came his muffled reply.

Monroe leaned against the outer wall of the barn and examined his rifle, making sure it was in pristine condition. 'A good hunter treats his equipment better than he does his women,' his father's words rang in his head. He smiled as he caressed the shiny barrel, mentally running through the basics of shooting a rifle with efficiency.

"What's up?" Gary – sans mask – asked as he exited the barn. His eyes were drawn to the shotgun and full pack on his friend's back. "Dammit, Ralph. What'd you get us into now?"

"I was only trying to scare them away," Monroe insisted. "But one of them moved into my line of fire."

"That's what you said last time," Gary shot back. "And we had to clean up after that one, too. You _have_ to be more careful, Ralph. This is a good thing we've got going here, but if people keep disappearing on hiking trips in these parts, the locals are eventually going to come up here and check us out. And then where will our operation be?"

"I know, Gary," Monroe said ruefully. "We need to clean this up, and then I swear I'll be more careful."

Gary gave a deep sigh and shook his head. "You've said that before."

"I mean it this time," the sandy haired man insisted.

"You've said that before, too." Gary let a small smile creep onto his face. "It's a good thing we've been friends so long, man. Otherwise I might have gotten fed up with you by now."

"I know, Gary. Don't think that I don't appreciate that." He stood up straight and held the shotgun out to Gary. "Are you going to help?"

"You know I will, but right now I'm in the middle of a batch. Let me finish cooking this one, and I'll join you."

"Okay." Monroe gestured in the direction he would be going. "They're down there by the river. I'll mark my trail for you."

"Okay," Gary nodded as he donned the mask again. "See you soon."

--

"Don?" Charlie called to his brother. The injured man had lapsed into a trance of sorts about halfway during Charlie's struggles with the tree, but he needed him aware now so they could try to get him free. "Don, are you with me?"

"Yeah," the older man grunted. "You done?"

"I think so."

"_Think?_" Don repeated.

"I know so," Charlie told him with confidence. "I don't know the best way to do this, but I'm thinking I should grab the front and back of the arrow right next to your shoulder and pull. All I need you to do is try and keep your balance. You think you can manage that?"

"I'll have to, won't I?"

"Yeah," the young professor sighed in despair as he grabbed hold of the projectile. "On three?"

Don tried to breathe slow, deep breaths as he nodded. "On three."

"One..." Charlie watched as a mask of courage appeared on Don's face. "Two..." He tightened his grip even as Don's muscles tensed, and his hands grabbed at the trunk. "Three!" Charlie pulled, frowning when the arrow didn't budge. He quickly put all of his strength into it, his adrenaline rising as he felt the arrow slide down a bit. The groan of pain from Don was enough to send a chill down his spine and increase his adrenaline even more, so that the arrow finally tugged loose. Charlie's triumphant feeling was short-lived, however, as his mind quickly calculated that the two men were moving away from the tree too fast to stop their momentum. It was all he could do to twist himself around Don's back in an attempt to cushion the blow as they crashed onto the rocky ground.

A sharp stabbing sensation launched its way down his spine, and Charlie bit back a yelp as Don came tumbling down on top of him. Dully, through the haze clouding his vision, Charlie saw that Don's shoulder was going to come into contact with the ground, and he desperately reached out to grab him, knowing he wasn't going to be in time. As he watched in horror, the end of the arrow slammed into the ground, causing it to slide forward through Don's shoulder by a good two inches. Something close to a sob was wrenched from his brother's throat, as Don quickly rolled onto his good side. Charlie scrambled to his knees and bent over his big brother.

"Don?" he called as he slipped a hand under his head and supported his neck. He could hear Don's shallow wheezing as he struggled to draw air. "_Don! _You've got to breathe. Nice and slow. Deep breaths." Alarmed by his brother's lack of response, Charlie lowered his mouth until it was practically touching Don's ear. "Deep breaths," he whispered encouragingly as he lightly rubbed his brother's back. "You can do it." He sighed with relief as his brother started to get his respiration under control. "That's it," he whispered as he placed his other hand on Don's hip to keep him from moving and jarring the arrow again.

After a few moments of silence, during which the only sounds were his painful breathing and Charlie's soothing voice, Don nodded his head. "Thanks. I'm okay now."

"Relatively speaking," Charlie muttered under his breath.

"You need to get a bandage on it," Don told him. "Secure the arrow in place and help to stop the bleeding."

"I know," the younger man agreed." But..." He glanced at their surroundings, that uneasy feeling raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

"But what?"

"I just... I think..." He met Don's gaze and saw the complete trust in his brown eyes. "My gut is telling me something's not right."

"Your gut?" Don raised an eyebrow. "You get gut feelings?"

"Not usually, no. Well, unless it has to do with my work-"

"But you have one now?" Don cut him off, trying to keep him on topic.

"A bad one," Charlie admitted.

"Then grab all the stuff you can carry and let's get moving." At his little brother's surprised look, Don weakly gripped his hand. "I trust your instincts, Buddy."

Charlie's curls swayed as his head bobbed. "Lie still while I gather up the gear." He returned to Don's pack and crammed all of the supplies back inside. He glanced longingly at his pack, but knew there was no way he could carry both packs and help his brother. He raided his pack for food and water and left everything else behind. As he was about to zip up Don's pack, something caught his eye. "You brought your gun?"

"I don't leave home without it," Don told him.

"Thank God," Charlie mumbled. He had only shot a gun once before at the range with his brother, but his uneasiness was increasing by the second, so he slipped the gun and its holster onto his belt. _Please don't let me have to use it,_ he silently prayed.

He returned to Don's side and grabbed his good hand and shoulder. "Come on," he urged as he tugged his brother to sit upright. Charlie knelt and helped Don sling his good arm over his shoulder and then, straining under his brother's weight, shakily stood, lifting his older brother to his feet. He waited a beat while Don fought to catch his breath and then plowed ahead, back toward the tree line, trying to put as much distance between them and the river as quickly as he could.

--

Monroe returned to the same position from which he'd fired his bow, and was surprised to see that the injured man was no longer pinned to the tree. Furthering his disappointment even more was the fact that the uninjured man was leading him away into the woods. Ralph loaded his rifle and peered through the scope at the opposite bank. The crosshairs lined up on the shoulders of the injured man, but he kept losing the target through the trees. Although confident he could inflict a very serious wound, Monroe knew it wouldn't be a kill shot. And the sound of the gunshot might startle the younger man into taking off for help, although he doubted that he would leave his wounded companion behind.

_Better safe than sorry,_ he chanted silently.

Besides, he – with the exception of Gary – knew this terrain better than anyone else, _and _he was a world-class tracker and a highly skilled hunter. Monroe was confident that he could easily catch up with his prey and make sure he disposed of them properly. He casually shouldered his rifle and began the hike to the river.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Charlie's instincts had been screaming at him to keep moving, and he had been obeying them without question for the past twenty minutes. But now, as Don began stumbling beside him, he slowed his pace and studied his brother. His eyes widened as he saw how much worse Don's appearance had become. His brother's complexion had grown considerably paler, and there was a narrow, steady stream of blood trickling down the front of his shirt. Deciding that they had to take a rest or Don wouldn't make it any farther, Charlie brought them to a halt.

"What?" Don asked wearily. "Why're we stopping?"

"Because you need to rest," Charlie quietly told him.

"Thought your gut-"

"Is telling me something's wrong?" Charlie finished for him. "Yeah, it is. But if we don't stop..." _I'm afraid you won't make it out of here,_ he finished silently. He tore his gaze from his brother and scanned the forest around them, looking for any kind of natural shelter, preferably in an inconspicuous spot. His frustration mounted as he came up empty. "Damn," he muttered to himself. He debated setting Don down so he could wander a little farther ahead, but instantly threw out that idea as images of some psychotic hunter stumbling across his brother played in his mind. No, Don would be staying glued to his side until they found their way out of the situation.

"Over there," Don spoke.

Charlie turned to look at his brother and followed his gaze to a spot about fifty yards up the hillside. There was a stand of trees and, if Charlie looked closely enough, he could just make out a large shady area behind them. "Is that a cave?" he wondered aloud.

"That or an overhang that's shading the area," Don replied. "Either one will work for us right now."

Charlie nodded, tightened his grip on Don's arm and used every last bit of strength he had to lug his brother uphill. A few minutes later Charlie was relieved to find that it was indeed a small, natural alcove made from a large overhang and two stands of trees. He wearily set Don down in the deepest part of the recessed area, making sure to lean his good shoulder against the wall. "Stay here for me. I'll be right back." At his brother's nod, Charlie studied the opening of the cramped alcove, making sure that it wasn't too visible from the main trail they'd been on. Satisfied that it wasn't, he joined Don, slipped out of the heavy pack and sat by his side.

"We're hidden?" Don asked as he blinked sleepily.

"As well as we can be," Charlie informed him. "I have your gun on me, just in case."

"You remember how to shoot?" the older man asked in surprise.

"Empty lung technique."

"That's more for rifles," Don mused. "But I guess it can work for a handgun, too."

"We'd better hope so." Charlie grew quiet as he unzipped Don's pack and dug out a canteen. He glanced at Don's left hand and saw that it seemed to be a little steadier than earlier. He pressed the container into the injured man's hand. "Drink up while you can."

Don nodded and began slowly sipping the water. Satisfied that his brother was okay with that small task, Charlie opened up the first aid kit and began sorting through the contents. He soon had isolated a pile of supplies containing an ACE bandage, gauze pads and wrap, and some white tape. Charlie looked up and saw the troubled expression in his brother's eyes. "I have to," he whispered softly.

"I know," Don sighed.

"I don't want-"

"I know," Don assured him with a faint smile. "And I know you'll be as gentle as you can."

"Let me know when you're ready."

"How's next week?" Don joked. "I think I've got some free time on Tuesday."

Charlie humored his brother with a grin. "I'm all booked up next week. It's now or never."

"I'd like to opt for the 'never'," Don grumbled, closing his eyes in anticipation of the hell he was about to endure. "But go ahead."

"I need you to hold the arrow still while I pack the gauze around it."

Don nodded and, without opening his eyes, raised his left hand up and held the arrow steady. "Do I get a lollipop if I'm good?"

"How about a granola bar?"

"Not the same," Don playfully pouted. All signs of humor vanished from his face as he felt Charlie lay a hand on his shoulder. "Go ahead," he whispered to the younger man.

Even though Don couldn't see him, Charlie nodded and began packing the edges of the gauze pads into the area between the torn flesh and the projectile. His brother gave a low groan and Charlie quickly pressed a shaky finger against Don's lips. "Shh," he whispered. "I know it hurts, but in case I'm right and someone is looking for us, I need you to be as quiet as possible."

"Don't want much, do you?" Don muttered before biting his lip and nodding for Charlie to continue. The agent made himself think of other things – much more pleasant things – to distract himself as his little brother continued bandaging his shoulder. Every time Don managed to mentally make it to some other place, a wave of agony would bring him crashing back to reality. Eventually his vision started to gray around the edges, and he let himself drift away from the pain. A lifetime later Don became aware of a very soft, soothing touch on his chin. His eyes fluttered open and he saw Charlie dabbing at face with a piece of gauze.

"You bit through your lip," the younger man told him as he continued wiping the blood away.

"You're done?" Don asked in confusion.

"See for yourself," Charlie nodded toward his shoulder.

Don looked and saw that the arrow was still in place, but it was now held by several layers of bandages. "Looks like it was wrapped up by a pro," Don smiled. "Good job, Buddy."

"I'm debating if I should immobilize your whole arm, too, or just leave it like it is."

"Leave it like this," Don suggested. "If someone is after us, then I'll need to be able to use both hands, even if one isn't up to par."

The younger man looked doubtful, but didn't force the issue. "How's the pain? I've got more Tylenol if you need it."

"It hurts, but nothing you find in that first aid kit is going to put a dent in it."

"Let me know if you change your mind," Charlie said. He hated feeling useless when it came to something as simple as being able to ease his brother's pain. He sighed and ran a hand through his curls. "Whenever you're ready, we really need to get moving again."

"I'm ready," Don responded as he held out his good arm for Charlie to help him up.

--

Monroe had crossed the river, making sure to mark his path with a series of small red strings tied around branches. They were practically invisible to the untrained eye, but stood out like bright red beacons to Gary and himself.

Monroe stood along the water's edge and studied the footprints that were still visible in the dry dirt. The area had been under a drought, and he knew the signs of flight that his quarry left behind would be noticeable for days. Even though he knew exactly where the two men had entered the woods, Ralph was taking time to study the tracks along the riverbank. His father had taught him at an early age that you could tell a lot about your prey just by studying how it moved and interacted with its environment and peers.

The camouflage-clad man had already deduced that the taller, older, injured man was a potentially dangerous opponent. His tracks were clear and concise – he didn't drag his feet or hesitate when he walked. The weight seemed to be carried on the balls of the feet, even when he moved at a leisurely pace, indicating that he was someone used to strenuous physical activity.

Monroe shook his head as he studied the footprints left by the smaller man. They had softer, blurred outlines, indicating that he paused a lot while walking. The weight was distributed evenly from heel to toe, meaning that he probably wasn't as physically active as his companion. Monroe's most interesting observation was that the smaller prints were almost always on top, which he knew meant that the younger man was usually following in the older one's steps.

The sandy haired man gave a menacing grin. _Follow the leader, _he thought to himself. _Incapacitate the leader and the followers become easy prey. _And Ralph was almost certain that this particular leader wouldn't be lucid for much longer, given the amount of blood he saw around the tree and along the edge of the woods.

Monroe loaded a shell into his rifle, chambered a round in his handgun and casually entered the forest.

--

Charlie kept leading his brother through the woods and in the direction of safety. He tried not to think about the fact that their car was a two-day hike from their present location, and that was when they were moving at a healthy pace. He tried not to think about the fact that there was an ever-widening red stain seeping through the bandage on Don's shoulder. He tried not to think about how often his brother was starting to stumble, or how his breathing hitched every time Charlie had to steady him to keep him from falling.

He tried not to think about any of that, but those were the only things he _could_ think of.

Sighing, the young professor looked up at the sky where it peeked through the treetops. He could see the purplish hint of dusk and knew they should look for some sort of shelter soon. Don needed to rest, and Charlie knew they needed to be hidden away from the dangers of the night – whether they be in the form of animal or man.

Don suddenly lurched forward in his grasp and it took every last bit of strength that Charlie had to keep both of them upright. "Careful," he whispered as he leaned against a tree, his brother leaning against him. "Just hang on a few more minutes and I'll find us a place to rest."

"'Kay."

Charlie's eyes widened at the compliant response, knowing that only a very sick or tired Don Eppes would so readily agree to his statement. Judging by the way Don sagged against him, and the way he panted for air, his brother was both sick _and _tired right now. He soothingly rubbed Don's right side where he gripped his waist as he surveyed their surroundings, coming up empty in the shelter department. He hated to put any added strain on his brother, but Charlie suspected their best hope lay in getting further up the hillside, away from the trail.

"We need to keep hiking uphill," he whispered in his brother's ear. "I know you're tired, but I need you to keep going, okay?"

"Sadist," Don muttered as he lifted his head from his little brother's shoulder and gave him a slight smile to show he was teasing. "I honestly don't know how much further I can go."

"Not much longer tonight – I promise." Charlie met his eyes with a fierce, determined gaze. "But you'll keep going as long as needed tomorrow, you got that?"

"I got it," Don agreed, feeling confident in Charlie's abilities to lead them to safety.

"Good," Charlie said. "I didn't want to have to kick your ass."

"As if," Don mumbled in response as they started the trek away from the path.

--

Monroe finished tying off another red string and looked down at the ground in front of him. He had figured the younger man would stick to the path, considering that was probably the only way he wouldn't get lost, but he was still leaving a nice set of tracks behind. _Guess he doesn't know he's being hunted,_ Monroe thought idly.

Leaning against a tree and studying the dusky light before dark, he consumed a few sticks of jerky and washed them down with half a bottle of water. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, repacked the water, and started following the tracks again. After a few minutes he came to a spot where they left the trail and headed up a hill further into the woods. Monroe drew his handgun, flipped the safety off, and stealthily made his way up the incline.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

"Home, sweet home," Charlie sighed as he half-carried his injured brother through the mouth of the small cave. "Considering our alternatives, I guess I really shouldn't complain."

"Can we sit down?" Don quietly asked.

Charlie looked despairingly at his brother. "Of course," he answered, alarmed by Don's drawn features and lack of energy. "Let's move to the very back, though. I think that'll be safer." His big brother gave a tired nod that ended with his head sagging onto Charlie's shoulder. "Hang in there, bro," he whispered encouragingly.

"Don't worry about me," the older man said.

"Right," Charlie laughed bitterly. He led Don to the back of the cave which curved around out of sight, and carefully lowered him to a sitting position with his uninjured shoulder resting against the wall. "Stay put while I get some stuff done." Don nodded as his eyes closed and Charlie lightly stroked his cheek. "I'll be right back."

The young professor dug a spool of fishing line out of Don's pack and returned to the mouth of the cave. He carefully strung five lines all the way across the entrance at varying heights, hoping that if someone tried to sneak up on them in the night, they would be tripped up and make enough noise to wake them. Of course what he _really_ hoped was that no one was actually following them, but his gut feeling was as strong as ever.

Charlie returned to the back of the cave and sat next to his brother. He dug two more Tylenol out of the first aid kit and a canteen and helped his brother down the pills. Charlie then pulled out a bag of trail mix. "I know you're probably not feeling hungry," he said, his suspicion confirmed by the look of disgust on Don's face. "But you need to eat – keep your strength up. I _will_ get us out of here, but I need your help."

"I'm not much help right now," Don said bitterly. "You should probably just leave me and-" He stopped speaking as Charlie seized his jaw, digging his fingers in and fixing him with a blazing stare.

"I'd better never hear those words coming from your mouth again," the younger man growled. "You got that?"

Don was speechless for a moment, shocked by the ferocity and conviction in his little brother's voice and eyes. "Sure, Buddy," he finally whispered. "I'm sorry, too. I don't know what came over me..."

"You're hurt," Charlie stated matter-of-factly as he released Don's jaw. "You're not thinking clearly. So eat and I bet you feel better soon." He pressed the bag of trail mix into his brother's hand and looked at him expectantly.

"You?" Don queried.

"I've got my own bag," he promised.

Don nodded and popped a raisin in his mouth, tamping down a wave of sickness as it threatened in the back of his throat. He didn't tell Charlie, though, certain the younger man would worry about him even more. _He has enough on his plate just trying to get us out of here, without knowing every single unpleasant feeling I have._ Once he'd eaten as much as he could stand, which happened to be just enough to appease Charlie, he handed the bag back and rested his head against the rough wall.

"Tired?" Charlie questioned softly.

"I could sleep for a year," the injured man mumbled.

"How about we start with a night?" the younger man joked.

"Sure. Damn wall is uncomfortable, though."

"I can fix that," Charlie told him. Don heard him shifting around and soon felt Charlie's hands on his shoulders tugging him to the side and toward the ground at the same time. Trusting that his little brother would take care of him, Don obeyed without opening his eyes, and was pleased to feel something soft and warm beneath his head and shoulder.

"I've got you," Charlie whispered as he cradled his brother against his chest. "You just rest."

"You going to stay awake all night?"

"I'm going to try. Don't worry, though. I set up a 'burglar alarm' to wake us up if anyone comes in here without knocking." _And really I hope it works, _he added silently.

"Good thinking, Buddy." Don yawned and pressed his cheek into Charlie's shoulder. "Wake me if you need me."

"I will," Charlie promised. "But for now, you just rest." He started lightly stroking Don's good arm until his breathing evened out and he fell asleep.

--

_So they had been here._

Monroe stood under a large overhang and studied the trash the younger man had left behind. Gauze wrappers, pieces of tape, scraps of shirt, and a large pool of blood were all signs that they had rested here for a while before moving on. It also spoke to how bad off the injured man really was. They would be moving slow and he should be able to overtake them by tomorrow afternoon and then his problems would be gone.

With that comforting thought in his head, Ralph settled in for a long wait until morning.

--

Charlie was having no problems staying awake during the night. All of his worries and fears were more than enough to deprive him of sleep. Any time he thought he might be relaxing enough to doze off, either Don would shift uncomfortably in his arms – reminding Charlie that they needed to get help soon – or he would hear a strange noise outside and tense in expectation of an intruder.

Don restlessly shifted again, and Charlie squeezed him in a gentle embrace. "Shh," he soothed as he rested his head on top of his brother's. He frowned at the warmth he felt against his cheek. _The last thing he needs is an infection on top of the injury itself, _Charlie groaned inwardly. He wasn't really surprised though – he knew puncture wounds had a high likelihood of becoming infected if left untreated. He just hoped they got help in time to stop the infection from becoming too severe.

Don tried to roll onto his other side, but Charlie held him even tighter. "Hold still," he spoke softly, easily restraining his weakened brother. Don continued to fight him, so Charlie began gently rocking him, whispering soft assurances in his ear. The combination of the two finally got through to the injured man and he fell into a deeper sleep against the younger man's body.

Charlie sighed wearily and wished for the hundredth time that one of them had brought their cell phones. He knew there probably wasn't any chance of getting a signal – that was why they had left their phones behind to begin with – but he longed to have one in his hand right now, just to make sure. _Hindsight's twenty-twenty,_ he thought bitterly.

A rustling noise bounced off the walls, coming from the direction of the cave entrance, and setting Charlie's senses on alert. He reached down to the ground on his side and loosely gripped the handle of his brother's weapon, ready to pick it up and fire if necessary. The sound died away and left Charlie to listen to the frantic beating of his heart and Don's soft snores.

Wide awake and more than a little frightened, Charlie prayed that morning would arrive soon.

--

Ralph woke just before sunrise, his internal alarm clock as sharp as ever, and made his way from the alcove. Although he'd only gotten a few hours of sleep, the thrill of the hunt was keeping his adrenaline levels high. He paused only briefly to down a breakfast of jerky and bottled water before following the two men's tracks back to the main path. He settled his backpack comfortably on his shoulders and rested his rifle in the crook of his arm.

As he walked, Monroe scanned the terrain around him looking for any sign that the two men might have deviated from the path and taken an alternate route. As he suspected, the younger man was religiously following the established path, unwittingly making him and his companion even easier targets for the skilled hunter. Ralph figured the uninjured man either knew nothing about hiding his tracks or he didn't think anyone would be following them. In any case, Monroe would definitely have an advantage when he caught up to them today.

--

"How are you feeling?"

"Like hitting you if you ask me that again," Don snapped. He was tired, his shoulder ached unbearably and he'd reached his threshold for tolerating Charlie's mother hen routine.

"Sorry," the younger man apologized, his tone hurt.

Don sighed. "I didn't mean it like that, Buddy."

"I know," he tried to sound reassuring. "It's just the pain talking. Do you want a couple more Tylenol?"

"Won't do any good," Don told him. "About the only thing it's good for now is my fever, and that's already gone down. Better save them until later."

"Okay." Charlie reluctantly nodded, knowing that Don had a very good point. They would be here for at least another day, no matter how fast they managed to hike, and Don's fever would undoubtedly return with a vengeance at night.

"Should have brought our phones, huh?" Don attempted to make conversation.

"They wouldn't have worked," Charlie grumbled. "Don't talk, Don. You need to save your strength."

"Talking keeps my mind off..." he trailed off, not wanting to say 'the excruciating agony I'm in', so he opted for, "...Other things."

Charlie understood his meaning and squeezed his brother's hand. "We should have let Dad come with us."

"No," Don disagreed. "Then he might be the one shot. There's no way he would make it out of here."

_Like you have a much better chance._ "Good point." Charlie looked up at the sun overhead, frowning as he realized it was still early in the morning and already uncomfortably hot. "We should take a break soon. You need to drink something."

"I'm fine." Both brothers chuckled at Don's ridiculous statement.

"Yeah, and I'm the Queen of England."

"You've got the hair for it," Don ribbed his little brother.

"You're going to pay for that remark when you're better," Charlie warned as he allowed a smile onto his face. The fact that Don was trying so hard to be upbeat was really helping Charlie stay motivated and confident. _Even when he's the one who's in need, he still takes care of me,_ Charlie thought in awe. _You're amazing, bro._

"You know," Don spoke up. "That break sounds really good."

"Sure thing," the younger man replied, leading Don to patch of grass shaded from the morning sun. He lowered Don to the ground with the utmost of care, and then plopped down beside him. Charlie pulled a canteen and the bag of trail mix from the pack. "Drink _and_ eat, Don."

"Fine," Don sighed as he forced down a few handfuls of mix before tossing the bag back to his brother. "Remind me to pack real food next time."

"I've got jerky if you'd rather have that," Charlie offered.

"No, that was plenty. Not sure my system's up for jerky. It seems to be taking to the trail mix, so let's not push it."

"You're feeling sick?" Charlie demanded, angry that Don hadn't told him before now.

"Off and on," the injured man confessed. "Not too bad, but like I said – I don't want to push it."

"You have to be honest with me," Charlie pleaded. "I can't help you if you don't tell me these things."

"The only way to help me right now-" He stopped mid-sentence, looking at his lap and shaking his head. "Never mind." He was startled as Charlie gently gripped his chin and lifted his face. He hesitantly met the younger man's eyes and was shocked at the tearful expression he found there.

"I can't lose you, Don. Don't you understand that? I _won't_ let that happen, no matter what it takes."

"Charlie-"

"No!" the other man shouted. "I mean it. I won't let that happen. That's not up for discussion." He stuffed the mix and water back into Don's pack and stood up, reaching for his brother's hand. "Let's go."

Don stared at him in silence as he felt a growing sense of pride in his little brother. "Yes sir," he nodded as he allowed Charlie to haul him to his feet. "Hey, Buddy?"

"Yeah," the young man nodded without meeting Don's gaze.

"Thanks."

Still looking only at the trail ahead, Charlie's face broke out into a smile. "You're welcome... you stubborn old man."

"You're going to pay for that remark later," Don echoed his brother's words from earlier.

"Yeah? Well then, I guess you'd better make sure you're around later to carry out your threat."

"Count on it, Buddy."

_I am,_ Charlie thought silently. _I am._

--

Gary was hiking almost twice as fast as Ralph, and knew he would catch up to him pretty soon. He hadn't heard any gunshots, which meant either Ralph had yet to catch the two men, or he had finally learned not to be so dense when it came to disposing of witnesses. He sighed as he remembered the previous three people that his friend 'hadn't meant to hurt'. Each one of them had gotten close enough to the cabin to smell the fumes from Gary's meth cooking and was therefore a potential liability. The problem was that Ralph's attempts to scare them off always resulted in a severe injury and, with the exception of one, always an arrow related injury. Gary knew there were few enough bow hunters in the area that Ralph would quickly become the prime suspect, leading the local authorities to the clandestine lab. So every time he'd had to help his friend get the bodies back to the cabin where they could be disposed of in places where no one would ever find them – at least not for a few decades.

Gary couldn't believe Ralph had done it again and was starting to think that his companion was doing this on purpose. And he was going to be irate if Ralph killed the two men all the way out here, this far from the cabin, leaving the two of them to haul two dead bodies back to their place in the woods.

Sighing, Gary sped up his pace and hoped that he'd catch Ralph before he made another stupid mistake.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Charlie faltered as Don stumbled against him. He eyed his brother and frowned at the sweat rolling down his pale face and the visible tremors coursing through his body. Don was getting too hot, and the younger man didn't know how much longer his body would hold up to the strain of their trek before he lost all of his strength and collapsed for good.

"Need another break?" Charlie asked.

"Can't," Don shook his head, sending his world into a spin.

Charlie gripped him tighter, halting their steps while Don tried to regain his equilibrium. He noticed the lines of pain that were etched on his brother's face as well as the dark circles beneath his dull, glassy eyes. _Fever's back,_ Charlie thought as he placed the back of his free hand against Don's forehead for confirmation. _Damn, burning up._

"We're taking a break," Charlie informed him, his tone brooking no argument. He shuffled them to a small patch of shade cast by a large, ancient oak tree and set Don down.

"Should keep going," Don weakly protested, his comments made even more absurd by the way he listed to one side, unable to hold himself upright.

"Rest, bro," Charlie said softly as he ran his hand through Don's short hair. "I can't carry you out of here if you collapse." He pulled out two more pain pills, frowning at how quickly the meager supply was diminishing. They'd better get out of here soon if Don was going to stand a chance of surviving. He carefully slid his hand beneath Don's head and lifted it up, placing the pills into his mouth and holding a canteen to the too warm lips. "Swallow," he quietly commanded.

Don did as he was told and Charlie lowered his head back to the ground and tenderly stroked Don's hair while he watched his brother's eyes drift close.

"Can't sleep," Don drowsily insisted. "If someone's after us-"

"We don't know that for sure," Charlie countered, although he still had a very bad feeling about their situation. "I _do_ know for sure that I can't have you collapsing on me, so we rest. Besides, I've got your gun, remember?"

"Not paper targets, though," Don mumbled as he vainly struggled to open his eyes. "It's different."

"Not when my brother's life is in danger," Charlie growled. "I'll do whatever I have to in order to protect you."

Don sighed inwardly. That was exactly the situation he wanted to avoid. He honestly didn't think his little brother would be able to forgive himself if he had to take a life, even if it was to save his. Don hoped he was wrong, but prayed that they wouldn't have to find out. That was the last coherent thought he had as Charlie's soft ministrations lulled him to sleep.

--

Monroe had been following his prey's trail for several hours now, and suddenly slowed as he heard sounds that weren't native to the forest. Two low voices, one of them obviously tired and in pain. Crouching low, he stealthily crept closer to the sounds until he was almost on top of them. He peeked over a large tree root and saw what he was looking for. The two men were in the shade of a tree – the uninjured one sitting up and leaning against it with injured one lying on his good shoulder, curled up with his head on his companion's lap.

_Sitting ducks,_ Monroe thought gleefully as he readied his rifle and took aim at the uninjured man's head. His heart rate slowed, his eyesight sharpened and everything his father ever taught him about hunting played through his mind in a ten-second blur. Just as his finger was tightening on the trigger, Ralph heard Gary's voice in his head.

"_You can't just kill them where ever you please, Ralph. People know you're a bow hunter. Dead bodies with arrow wounds are like a calling card for you. You have to be more careful about where you kill and dispose of these people."_

_Gary's right, _Ralph thought as he slid his finger away from the trigger. _Even with his help it's going to be too hard and take way too long to drag two bodies back to our cabin. I need to make them go of their own free will._ Although he was by no means a highly intelligent man, Monroe did know a thing or two about hunting and about how to trick your prey into coming to you.

Grinning ear to ear, he lowered his rifle, stood up and quietly approached the two men.

--

Don groaned and lifted his head from where it rested on Charlie's leg. "...Time is it?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Three-thirty," Charlie answered as he consulted his watch. "The heat is starting to lessen and we've got a few hours before sunset. We really need to get moving whenever you think you can."

"Let's go now."

"Are you sure? You just woke up."

"We have to keep moving," Don said as he laid his head back on his brother's leg. He tried to stifle a yawn, and failed miserably.

"We can rest a few more minutes," Charlie offered. "Five or ten shouldn't make that big of a difference. And anyway, I don't think you'll be able to stand right now, much less walk."

"Won't know until we try," Don said as he weakly pushed himself upright with his good arm.

"Dad's right," Charlie muttered. "You _are_ as stubborn as a mule."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Don laughed softly. "His head'll get too big for his shoulders."

"Right," the younger man agreed. "You hold still for a minute and let me get everything packed up. Then I'll help you up and we can get going."

"Sounds like a plan," Don sighed as he leaned into the tree.

Charlie was so busy packing their stuff and Don's senses were so dulled by the amount of pain he was in that neither one of them heard the strange man approach. "Hello," he greeted.

Charlie whipped around in surprise at the same time Don awkwardly scrambled to his feet.

"Sorry," the stranger said as he held up his hands. "I didn't mean to startle you." He gestured at Don. "You okay, man?"

"We had an accident," Charlie said as his hand hovered near the gun on his hip.

"That's a pretty bad accident," he noted. "You two need some help?"

"Do you have a radio or a cell phone we could use?" Charlie inquired as he studied the sandy haired, camouflaged man. "He needs help soon, and our car is still a long way away."

Don was leaning heavily against the tree, his vision blurring and graying around the edges as he watched his brother speak with the stranger. Don wanted to let Charlie know that he was revealing far too much information about their situation but he didn't want to alert the stranger to his suspicions.

"Sorry, I don't," the man said. "I've got a radio back at my cabin, though. I use it to update the closest ranger station if I see anything unusual – forest fires, suspected poachers, that kind of stuff."

"Would you mind calling them to send help?" Charlie asked eagerly. "I'd be so grateful. My brother won't be able to make it much farther."

Don knew his little brother was so excited about the prospect of getting him medical attention that he'd forgotten about his gut feeling. For all they knew _this_ was the guy who had shot him and that Charlie had suspected was following them. Deciding he needed to speak to Charlie in private, Don let out a loud moan of pain and toppled over, doing his best to land in a manner that didn't jar his shoulder too badly. As predicted, Charlie was by his side in seconds.

"Don?" he called out with worry. "What happened?"

"Hurts," he mumbled so faintly that Charlie had to lean close to hear him. As soon as Charlie's ear was right next to his mouth, Don grabbed Charlie's forearm with his good hand and gave him two, firm squeezes. "Listen," he whispered as low as he could and still have his brother hear him.

"It's okay," Charlie whispered as he squeezed back twice and nodded faintly. "I'm here."

"Good," Don breathed. "He might be able to help, but we don't know who he is." Don made sure the words were mumbled, and raised and lowered his tone of voice as if he was being assaulted by waves of agony – which wasn't too far from the truth. The fall had jarred his shoulder, re-igniting the pain, but Don hadn't known what else to do to get his brother's attention.

"I know," Charlie said in a singsong voice. "Just hang on – I'm doing everything I can." He cupped Don's cheek and rose to his feet, startled to find the strange man was standing right behind him.

"He okay?"

"He needs help," Charlie informed him. "Would you please go radio for help while I wait here with him?" The younger Eppes instantly regretted his words as a look of resignation came over the stranger's face.

"You know, don't you?" he demanded.

"Know what?" Charlie tried to feign innocence while inching his hand toward the gun on his belt.

"You know what," the sandy haired man snarled. "You people are always coming up here and causing problems. Why the hell can't you just stay away? You're going to get me in trouble one day."

Thinking he was speaking only of the accident, Charlie shook his head. "I know it was an accident. You didn't mean to shoot him, right?"

"Of course not," the man snapped. "I was trying to scare you away. But then this idiot..." he gestured wildly at Don, "... Had to step in my line of fire."

_Scare us away?_ Charlie thought to himself as his fingers brushed the cool metal of Don's handgun. _Away from what?_

"But now you know about the lab, so I can't let you go."

_Lab?_ Charlie puzzled. _Think Charlie, think!_

"We were just hiking," Charlie told him. His palm rested on the butt of the gun as he slid his fingers around the grip. "We didn't see anything."

"Of course you didn't see anything," the stranger snapped in frustration. "But you smelled it. No way you can be as close as you were and not smell it."

"Smell what?" Charlie asked without thinking.

"Don't play dumb with me!" the man roared as he rushed Charlie, knocking him to the ground.

Caught off guard, it was all Charlie could do to keep from having the wind knocked out of him as he slammed into the ground. He had just managed to get a good grip on the handle of the gun, and his heart sank as it flew out of his hand and landed several feet away. The stranger saw the weapon as it sailed through the air and furiously drew his own handgun, smashing it against Charlie's head.

"No!" Don cried in protest as he levered to his feet. He wanted so badly to rush the hunter, but his legs were barely able to keep him standing, much less propel him forward.

The stranger looked up from his stunned victim and quickly launched himself at Don, slamming him against a tree and holding the gun to his temple. "You started all of this," he snarled, laughing at Don's cry of pain. His eyes drifted to the arrow in the injured man's shoulder, and he smiled as the arrow twisted when he pinned Don to the tree. "Aww, poor guy," he mocked. "Does that hurt?"

"Stop." Both Don and his tormentor looked at Charlie as he weakly protested his brother's abuse. He clumsily rose to his feet, swaying unsteadily. "Leave him alone."

"You'll get your turn soon enough," the hunter growled. He threw Don to the ground and pointed his gun at him. "This is for causing me so many problems," he said as his finger started to tighten on the trigger.

"No!" Charlie cried, stumbling toward the stranger. A loud shot rang out and Charlie fell to his knees, certain his brother was dead. He lowered his face to the ground and felt hot tears track down his face. It was over. Don was dead and he was next. _It doesn't matter,_ Charlie thought bitterly. _I failed Don. I deserve what's coming._

"Hey," an unfamiliar voice called out cautiously. A gentle hand settled on his shoulder and Charlie looked up into the warm green eyes of another man dressed in hunting gear. "Are you okay?" Reading the confusion in the young man's eyes, he continued. "I saw what that man was doing. I didn't want to, but... Well, I took care of him."

He shot their tormentor? But there had only been one gunshot. Did that mean...

Charlie whipped his head around and saw the stranger lying on the ground, shot in the head. Just behind the dead man, Charlie saw his brother lying pale and still, save for the slight rise and fall of his chest. "Don!" he cried with relief as he rushed to his brother's side, dropping to his knees and stroking his cheek. "Are you okay? Wake up for me, bro."

"What happened?" Don asked groggily as he drug his eyes open. His gaze slid to the side and he recognized the dead man beside him. "Did you…?"

"No," Charlie said quickly. "Another hunter happened to come by at the right time." Charlie pointed to the quiet man behind him before staring back down at Don. "He saved our lives."

Don squinted at the other man and nodded. "Thanks..."

"Gary," he smiled. "My name is Gary."

--

Gary maintained a safe distance between himself and the two men. Don and Charlie – the younger man had introduced them. He knew he had Charlie eating out of his hand as soon as he mentioned having a cabin with a radio and a cleared out field specifically for emergency helicopter landings. He'd described his cabin in detail, emphasizing that it had once been a ranger station, and was still well equipped with supplies, radio and facilities for emergency rescues. He did add, rather reluctantly, that they would have to carry Don there so he could be evacuated by chopper as soon as possible, explaining that otherwise the rescuers would have to land, hike about a day to Don and then hike a little over a day to get him back to the chopper. Gary hadn't been surprised in the least when Charlie had eagerly agreed, asking that Gary allow him a few minutes to speak to Don, and then they would be ready to go.

Gary wondered exactly what the younger man's reaction would be when he found that he had just led his brother to his final resting place.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

"You can do it," Charlie whispered fiercely in Don's ear, trying to alleviate the doubt in his brother's eyes. "I know you can. You're strong and stubborn."

"Like a mule," Don sighed as his head lolled against the tree trunk.

"Yes," Charlie agreed. "Which is why you are going to get up and get moving. We can get you the help you need once we get to the cabin."

"I don't think I can," Don confessed for the third time in five minutes. "I'm exhausted, Buddy. My legs don't want to work. I... I can't."

"Dammit, Don," the younger man growled. "If you don't go, then I won't either. Is that what you want?"

Don's eyes were drawn to the bloody gash on his little brother's head, and his stomach churned with worry. Charlie needed medical attention too, and if he waited with him... "You can't mess around with head injuries, Charlie."

"Nor can you with puncture wounds, Don." The brothers locked stares, each one steadfast in his position. "I mean it, Don. We go together or we stay together. It's up to you." Sensing that his brother's resolve was crumbling, Charlie pushed, "I'll be with you the whole way. You can lean on me as much as you need to. We make a great team, remember?"

Don nodded. He _did_ remember. After the horrible case was over last week, the two had been called into the Director's office and been praised for how well they worked together. _"One of the finest teams I've ever seen," _the Director had told them. "Okay," he relented. "We'll go together."

Charlie beamed at Don and carefully helped him to stand, slinging his good arm over his shoulders. He led his big brother toward Gary and nodded. "We're ready."

"Can I help?" the hunter offered as he gestured at Don. "Maybe hang onto your belt or something?"

"We're fine," Charlie assured him. "But thanks for the offer."

"Let me know if you change your mind."

"What about him?" Don asked as he looked at the dead stranger on the ground.

"I'll radio the locals to come check him out," Gary promised. "They'll probably be very excited."

"How so?" Charlie asked as he guided Don along the path behind their savior.

"There have been three hikers who have gone missing in this area. I have a strong suspicion someone as unstable as him might be the person responsible."

"Wow," Charlie whispered. "Then we're really lucky that you came along."

Gary just smiled and remained silent as he continued leading them to his cabin.

--

"I think we need to stop for the night," Charlie said as the sun started to disappear behind the horizon.

"If you want," Gary said. "But the sooner we get him to my cabin, the sooner we can get him help."

"But we can't see the trail at night," the younger man pointed out.

"I grew up here my whole life. I know the trails like the back of my hand."

"Yes," Charlie replied, forcing himself to be patient. "But we can't see the ground, and it's hard enough for Don when he _can_ see where he's putting his feet." He glanced worriedly at the aforementioned man who hung limp and panting against his side. "I don't think one night will make much difference, do you?"

"How's his pulse?"

Charlie pressed his fingers to Don's throat. "It feels pretty strong and regular."

"He might be okay," Gary shrugged. "I'd still say keep going, but he's your brother." Truth be told – as horrible as the older man looked, Gary didn't think he would die in the night. His pulse was steady, and the bleeding was almost completely stopped. The only major thing seemed to be an infection and the fever sapping Don's strength would probably be lower in the morning. But Gary didn't want anyone to stumble across him and his two companions or Ralph's dead body and have the authorities take a look at him. Even though Ralph had been living in the mountains for years, no one knew that he lived at Gary's cabin, just 'somewhere in the wilderness'.

"Then we'll rest for the night," Charlie announced, bringing Gary out of his musings.

"Okay," Gary nodded. "Why don't you two get settled and I'll get us a fire going?"

"Sounds good," Charlie thanked him. As Gary disappeared into the surrounding woods, Charlie settled Don against a tree and retrieved their food and water from the pack. He dumped the last two pain pills into his hand and sighed ruefully. _Well, at least we should be getting out of here tomorrow,_ he thought as he sat next to his brother.

Looking over at Don's pale, drawn features, Charlie fought back a wave of despair. _Tomorrow,_ he reminded himself. "Hey, Don," he whispered as he cupped the injured man's cheek. His brother's eyes fluttered open and Don stared blearily at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he mumbled as his eyes drooped closed.

"Stay awake," Charlie commanded, giving Don' uninjured shoulder a squeeze.

Don obeyed and fixed his little brother with a sleepy glare. "Tired."

"I know, but you need to eat and drink and take something for your fever – it's getting worse." Charlie lightly gripped the back of his brother's neck. "Besides, we'll be getting out of here as soon as we get to Gary's cabin."

"Maybe," Don sighed. "You trust him?"

"He saved our lives," the younger Eppes reminded him. "Why would he have done that if he didn't want to help us?"

"I guess," Don whispered, though he still sounded doubtful.

"I'm keeping your gun where I can get to it in a hurry, just in case. All you need to do is relax and trust me."

"I do," Don nodded. "Always."

Charlie smiled warmly, his confidence soaring at his brother's words. He popped the pain pills into Don's mouth and watched as the weakened man shakily washed them down with water and then handed him the bag of trail mix. "Now eat something and then you can go to sleep."

"I've got something better than that," Gary said as he returned with some kindling. "Canned beans. The protein will be good for you."

Don's stomach churned at the thought of real food but to his chagrin Charlie nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, that would be good for him."

"Let me get the fire started and I'll heat us up a can." Gary turned and busied himself building the fire.

"Charlie," Don whispered plaintively as he tugged on his brother's sleeve. "I don't think I can eat beans. My stomach's still too queasy."

"Give it a try, Don. He's right – they'll be good for you. Help you keep your strength up."

"Not if I can't keep them down," Don grumbled.

"Try it for me, please?"

Don sighed, knowing that Charlie was perfectly happy to manipulate him to get what he wanted. "One day that's not going to work."

"What?" the younger man feigned innocence.

"That look," Don sighed as he forced a grin to his face. "You abuse it, you know."

"I know," Charlie nodded, not bothered in the least by his confession. He shifted closer to his brother so that his shoulder was just below Don's chin.

The older man smiled gratefully and let his head rest on the proffered shoulder. "Thanks, Buddy."

After a few minutes of silence, Gary brought two tin plates of food. "Go ahead and eat – it's just the right temperature."

"Thanks," Charlie said as he accepted the dishes. He set one plate down and scooped up a spoon of beans from the other, slipping them into Don's mouth. "How are they?"

"Not bad," Don admitted as he accepted another spoonful. They ate in silence, Charlie slipping him a bite and then taking a bite for himself while Don slowly chewed his food. After a few minutes one plate was empty, and the other was missing just over half of its original serving.

Charlie set the dishes beside him and pulled Don to lie across his chest. "Thank you for eating," he whispered as he rested his head on top of his brother's. "You'll feel better soon, you'll see."

"Sure, Buddy," Don yawned as his eyes slid shut. "You staying awake?"

"Yeah," Charlie nodded, stifling a yawn of his own. "I'll keep watch."

"'Kay," Don whispered as he relaxed into his brother's warmth. "Good night."

"Night, bro." Charlie smiled as his brother instantly fell into a peaceful slumber. He had every intention of staying awake, but the flickering flames and warmth from the fire were so comforting that his eyes started drooping. He cast one last look at Gary, who nodded reassuringly, stroking the rifle that lay across his lap.

"I'll keep watch," the blond man whispered. "You two rest."

Charlie didn't want to but he was utterly exhausted from supporting Don the past two days and he felt himself slipping away. Just before he was gone he rested his hand on Don's gun which lay right beside his leg. Satisfied that he could grab it quickly if he needed to, Charlie gave in to the inviting darkness.

--

Gary smiled as the younger man dozed off. So far his plan was proceeding flawlessly. _Poor Ralph, _he thought. _If only you could have been a little smarter. But that's the hand fate dealt you._

The blond man rose from his seat and silently moved to where the two men slept. He glanced down at the plates of food and shook his head. _Campfire beans. What a last meal._ He bent down and noiselessly picked the plates up, pausing as something caught his eye.

_Well, Charlie,_ he thought with a silent chuckle. _Aren't you the clever one? But I'm afraid I can't let you get away with that. _He set the plates back down and began fiddling with the object that had captured his attention.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Charlie emerged from a much-needed rest, stretching and peering at the morning light. The first thing he did was to subtly tuck Don's gun back into the holster on his belt. His movements jarred his brother, who mumbled and woke as well. "How'd you sleep?" Charlie queried.

"Not bad, all things considered."

The younger man smiled and rested his hand on Don's forehead. "Fever's down. That's good."

"Yeah," the injured man agreed, struggling to push himself up to a seated position.

"Morning," Gary nodded to the two men as he stood over the fire.

Don sniffed. "Is that coffee?" he asked, his eyes twinkling in excitement.

"Yes sir," Gary beamed. "Although I don't think you should have any in your condition. I thought your brother might like it, though."

"He doesn't drink coffee," Don replied in a tone that implied utter disbelief. "Never has."

"Oh," Gary said as he eyed the pot of boiling water. "That's a pity. I made enough for two."

Don looked up at Charlie and grinned. "Be a shame to let it go to waste."

"No." The younger man shook his head. "That's the last thing you need."

"It'll perk me up," Don countered. "Get me ready for the journey ahead."

Charlie sighed in exasperation but he was secretly thrilled. Anything that got Don's spirits up was okay in his book. "Alright." He made a show of giving in. "I guess a little won't hurt." He couldn't help but laugh at the look of pure joy on his brother's face. "The things I do for you," he teased.

All the joking and smiles disappeared a short while later as Charlie settled Don against him in preparation for their hike. The injured man's face grew even paler, and his breathing hitched as his shoulder protested the movement. Charlie was alarmed by how much more of Don's weight he seemed to be supporting as opposed to the previous day and looked doubtfully at Gary. "I may need your help after all."

Gary nodded and slid an arm around Don's waist, easing some of the load from Charlie. "Does that help?"

The younger man nodded but his gaze was glued to Don's face. "How're you feeling, Don?"

"I'll make it," he answered with determination. "But I suggest we get started and don't stop until we're there."

Charlie pressed his forehead against Don's and smiled. "That's the attitude I want. Thanks."

Gary cleared his throat and nodded toward the trail when Charlie looked at him. "No time like the present," he said. Slowly the three men began hobbling along the trail, excited at the prospect of reaching the cabin soon – although for considerably different reasons.

--

Just before mid-day the trio scaled a hill and found themselves in front of a rustic cabin. Charlie was certain that it was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He glanced around, idly wondering where an emergency helicopter could land.

"Clearing's out back, a few hundred feet from the cabin," Gary spoke as though he'd read the young man's mind. "Let me get you two settled inside and I'll call for help." He led them to the front door and unlocked it. As Charlie moved to bring Don inside, Gary restrained him with his left hand, while punching a numeric code into a keypad with his right. "Security system," he informed him. "I know we're in the middle of nowhere but I still don't want just anybody walking into my cabin." The red light above the keypad turned green and gave a friendly beep. "Okay, we're clear."

Gary pushed the door open all of the way and gestured for the two men behind him to enter. He quickly ushered them into the back room of the cabin and helped settle Don onto his side on the bed. "Stay with him and keep him comfortable," Gary advised Charlie. "I'm going to make that call and I'll be right back."

Charlie nodded without looking up from his brother's still form. He began lightly stroking Don's sweaty hair as he whispered to him. "We made it, Don. You hear me? We'll be on our way soon."

"'S good," Don slurred. "Can... sleep now?"

"Yes, you can sleep now," Charlie soothed. He waited until Don had nodded off and then entertained himself by scanning the room. Judging by the abundance of camouflage coats, pants, and shirts scattered about the room, he could tell the occupant was definitely someone who was used to 'roughing it'. Charlie brow furrowed as he studied two coats hanging side by side from the dresser mirror. The young professor rose from the bed and walked nearer, his studious gaze revealing something unusual. The two coats seemed to be of made from the same pattern but were two very different sizes. Charlie quickly checked the tags and realized they were four sizes apart. Even if Gary gained or lost weight throughout the year, the size range was too great. _Does someone else live here?_ Charlie wondered to himself. _You'd think Gary would have mentioned that._

He glanced over his shoulder and made sure Don was still sleeping before he slipped into the other room. He could tell this was the main living area with an old, beat up couch along one wall and a small dining table and two chairs in the corner by the refrigerator, sink and stove. Charlie felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising as something set him on edge and he quickly scanned the room again. What was bugging him so badly? His gaze landed on the couch, and the blanket and sheet tossed across the back. _Someone sleeps on the couch?_ he wondered. As he crossed the room for a closer look, something on the table drew his attention. His blood ran cold and his knees grew weak. _No!_ he cried silently.

"Charlie, Charlie," Gary's voice spoke from the back door. "Now didn't I ask you to stay with your brother?"

The young Eppes whipped around to face the blond man, and was surprised to find him casually leaning against the doorjamb. "You... It was _you_."

"That shot your brother?" Gary asked. "No, that wasn't me. Those..." he gestured at the bow and arrows that had spooked Charlie. "... Belonged to Ralph."

"The man you killed," Charlie stated. "He lived with you."

"Yes," Gary nodded. "We've been best friends since high school."

"Then why..."

"Would I kill him?" The blond man sighed and shrugged. "He was getting to be too careless. He started off as a great watchdog for our little operation but then he started getting reckless. Shooting 'at' people to scare them off, only he had this awful knack for hitting them. Personally, I think his mind had warped and he enjoyed hunting _people_."

"That's sick," Charlie spat.

"I agree," Gary nodded. "That's the main reason I decided I had to kill him."

"But you're going to kill us too," Charlie spoke slowly.

"Unfortunately, you did get dragged into this so… yeah. I have a very profitable lab to protect. I appreciate you two coming along so quietly – you wouldn't believe what a pain it is to haul a dead body all that way back to the cabin. I'll have to go get Ralph later but you did save me two extra trips."

Charlie's mind was reeling. Here he was, in some cabin in the middle of nowhere, having recently escaped from one madman, only to wind up with another who was calmly informing him that he was about to be murdered. _I have to be dreaming,_ he pleaded with no one in particular. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again, his heart shattering as he realized this was real. He wondered if Don would be waking up and saving him now but – remembering how tired and weak his brother was – he quickly dismissed that possibility.

Gary stood up straight and approached Charlie, the look on his face one of calm resolve. Charlie's mind screamed at him to draw Don's gun and shoot but his hand had ceased to obey him. He gasped as Gary grabbed his neck in a chokehold and steered him back to the bedroom, slamming him to the floor and turning his attention to Don.

"Got to remove the evidence," he muttered as he grabbed the injured man's shoulder. He grasped the arrow and Charlie's stomach knotted as he realized what he was about to do.

"No!" Charlie yelled, shaking the cobwebs from his brain and pulling Don's gun from its holster. Somehow he had the presence of mind to flip off the safety as he took shaky aim at Gary's head. "Leave him alone!"

"Or what?" he calmly inquired, his hand still holding on to the arrow. "You'll shoot me? I don't think you have it in you, kid." He looked back down at the man on the bed and prepared to yank the projectile from the wound.

"Charlie?" Don's softly called as he winced against the pressure on his injury. His eyes fluttered open and landed on Gary's face, inches above his own. "What?" he asked in bewilderment.

"Just removing some evidence," Gary whispered.

"I said leave him alone!" Charlie, forgetting everything Don had taught him at the gun range, yanked on the trigger realizing at the last minute that his aim was terribly off. Only... there was no gunshot. As Charlie tried to wrap his mind around what happened, Gary started laughing maniacally.

"Congratulations, Charlie." He roared with laughter. "I really didn't think you had it in you. Good thing I never take any chances." He kept chuckling as Charlie pulled the trigger again and again and again. "I took the liberty of emptying your clip while you slept last night. I hope you don't mind."

In a desperate fit of anger, Charlie threw the gun across the room, frowning as Gary easily batted it away. "Temper, temper," he scolded. "Now – are you going to let me tend to your brother here or do I need to kill you first?"

With all of his attention on Charlie, Gary had forgotten that Don had woken up. He was very surprised when Don's knee slammed into his groin, doubling him over in pain. As he lay gasping for air he heard the injured man's voice:

"Run, Charlie! Get out of here!"

"But-"

"_Go!"_ Don roared, ready to kill Charlie himself if he didn't obey. Much to his relief Charlie finally darted out of the door. Gary tried to rise to go after him, but Don clawed at his cheek, very nearly gouging his eye out. With a snarl of anger Gary threw himself across Don's chest and grabbed the arrow, ripping it from the wound. Don howled in agony before passing out from the pain.

Gary continued to lie across the injured man as he fought to catch his breath. Having seen how the brothers interacted with each other he figured Charlie wouldn't really leave his brother behind, so he was probably lurking somewhere in the woods around the cabin. Gary had neither the desire nor the time to search for the little pest and a grin slowly spread over his face as he determined that he didn't _have_ to hunt for Charlie. Looking down at the man beneath him, it dawned on him that he had the one thing he needed to make _Charlie_ come to _him_.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Charlie was perched on a tree root, hunched over his knees and trying to control the shaking in his hands. _"Adrenal response," _he'd once described it to Don.At the time he'd been excited, but now he was sick with fear. He averted his eyes from the spot where he'd thrown up a few moments ago and tried to calm his racing heart.

_Get a grip, man! _he yelled at himself. _Don's counting on you._

_If he's not already dead,_ a different voice in his head argued.

_He's not! I won't let him be!_

_Let him be?_ the second voice sneered. _How's that work exactly?_

"Shut up," Charlie mumbled aloud, effectively silencing the voice in his head. He took several deep breaths, over and over, until the shaking in his hands had almost subsided. He braved a glance up at the cabin and wondered what Gary was up to.

_Killing your brother, _the second voice piped back up.

_No,_ Charlie argued with it. _He's going to use him to lure me back. I'm sure of that._

Charlie dropped his gaze to his lap, studying the object that lay there as if it were a deadly snake poised to strike at any minute.

"_It's called an Empty Lung Technique,"_ his brother's voice echoed in his head. He remembered that day on the shooting range when he'd intently listened to Don as he became the teacher in their relationship. _"Okay? So line it up... Aim."_

Charlie closed his eyes, his hands cautiously hovering above the object on his lap.

"_You're going to exhale,"_ Don's voice returned in his head. _"And count to three before you inhale. On two, you squeeze the trigger, right? Just like I taught you."_

Charlie's hands reverently slid along the cool metal barrel across his lap. He opened his eyes and carefully wrapped his hands around the stock. He lifted the weapon up, surprised by its weight as he tightened and adjusted his grip. His finger rested on the trigger and he closed his eyes again.

"_Just tease it,"_ Don had said, drawing out the second word to emphasize his point.

Charlie breathed deep and steady, his heart finally beginning to beat at a more normal rate. He turned the weapon in his hands, mesmerized by how the sunlight glinted off of the shiny barrel.

"Hey Charlie!" Gary's voice drew him from his thoughts. "I know you're out here somewhere!"

Charlie lay on his belly, snaked up to the edge of the rise he was hidden behind and peered over the top. He saw Gary standing in the doorway, gripping Don in a chokehold and using him as a shield. Charlie could tell Don was in even worse shape and he suspected the missing arrow and copious amount of blood running from his shoulder were to blame.

"Hey, Charlie!" Gary repeated, the anger in his tone increasing. "I think your brother here needs you! He ain't looking so hot!"

Charlie saw that while Gary was using Don to shield his body, his brother's head was sagging to his chest leaving Gary's head exposed. _Can I really shoot with that much accuracy? That's a small target, and the consequences of missing are... unthinkable._

"Charlie! Don't be anti-social – Don's not going to be happy if you are." The blond man pulled a knife from where it had been tucked into his belt, slid it under Don's chin and lifted his head with it. "Do I have to make Don call for you to come?"

_Damn,_ Charlie growled. With Don's head raised, his target grew even smaller, partially obscured by Don's face. _I can't shoot now. Don's too close._

"All right Charlie," Gary chuckled. "You asked for it." He slowly moved the knife so that it was resting over Don's good shoulder. "Last chance!"

Charlie swallowed against the bile that rose in the back of his throat and quietly slid the rifle so that it was supported by the rise of the hill. He held the butt of the weapon firmly against his shoulder and sighted down the barrel until he was looking at Gary's face. _Line it up, _he said to himself. _Aim._

Don suddenly cried out in pain as Gary drove the knife into the front of his good shoulder, twisting it as he scanned the woods around the cabin. "You hear what you're doing to him, huh? You hear that, Charlie?"

The young professor blinked back tears and steeled himself against the anger he felt as Don was tortured in front of him. _Exhale,_ he calmly chanted. _Count to three._

"That was just a warning!" Gary raged as he yanked the knife out of Don's shoulder. "The next one is for real – right through the heart!"

_One..._

Gary's eyes darted around, but fortunately he was keeping his body still so that he was an easier target.

_Two..._

Gary raised the knife at the same instant Charlie _teased_ the trigger ever so gently...

The gunshot was deafening but – unlike that evening at the gun range – Charlie didn't so much as flinch at the noise. He watched in slow motion as the knife dropped from Gary's hand, clattering to the wooden floor below with a muted thump. Gary himself began falling backwards into the house while Don fell away from him, landing on the porch in a jumbled heap. Pausing for only a second to ensure Gary was down for the count, Charlie launched himself from his hiding spot, his focus solely on his brother. He couldn't make his legs move fast enough as he sprinted, all the while begging God not to take Don from him.

He finally reached his big brother's side and fell to the floor beside him, his fingers automatically pressing against Don's throat as he searched for a pulse. Although it was weaker than it should have been, it was there and Charlie collapsed on top of Don in relief. His tears began to flow as he gathered Don in an awkward embrace, whispering words of comfort and thanks in his ear. Charlie clung to him, afraid to ever let go, and rocked him as he wept.

_He needs help._

Charlie nodded as the voice from earlier returned. "Right," he whispered to himself. The young man gently set his bother back down and placed a tender kiss on his forehead. "I'll be back soon, Don."

Charlie rose and moved to stand over Gary, wincing at the bloody hole in his forehead.

_It had to be done. There was no other choice._

Charlie numbly nodded, idly wondering when the voice had decided it was on his side. He shook his head to clear it and moved toward the back of the cabin. Although Gary had undoubtedly told him many lies when he was convincing Charlie to come to the cabin, he strongly suspected that having a radio wasn't one of them. If the meth lab had been as successful as Gary had bragged then he had had to have a way to contact his buyers.

Charlie stumbled through the back door of the two-room dwelling and found himself in front of a large old barn. _Must be the lab,_ he thought to himself. The radio couldn't be in there, though. If it ever gave off a spark while the two men were cooking up a batch of meth the whole place would have turned into a giant fireball. Charlie looked to either side of the barn but saw nothing of any promise – just a rusted out Jeep and an outhouse. Figuring he had nothing to lose, Charlie walked to the Jeep and verified that it had no radio and wouldn't be running any time soon. He turned and propped his back against the rusted piece of junk and held his head in his hands. _What am I missing? Think, dammit! Don's counting on you._

His frustration mounting, Charlie started to storm back to the house when something about the outhouse caught his attention. _Is that an antenna?_ He jogged to the small building and ripped the door open. He nearly collapsed, giddy with relief, as he found himself looking at the communications part of the drug operation. There was a CB radio and a police scanner – he supposed so that Gary and Ralph would have advance notice if anyone ever _did_ want to pay them a visit. He flipped the radio on, holding his breath until he heard the low-level hum of electricity. _Now, which channel should I use?_ Charlie desperately tried to recall a conversation he'd had with Larry a couple of years ago about his addiction to chatting on the radio. _What was the channel he had said was designated for emergency use only? Channel nine? Yeah… like the beginning of 'nine-one-one'._

With a shaking hand and hopeful heart Charlie tuned the radio to channel nine. He picked up the microphone and took a deep breath before pressing the button. "Hello? Can anyone hear me?" He held his breath as he waited for a response.

"Operator KRJ94585," a static-filled female voice radioed back. "A.K.A. Buttercup One. Son, this channel is for emergency use only."

"Thank God you're there!" Charlie exclaimed in relief. "This is an emergency! My brother – he's been shot and stabbed, and he's bleeding very badly. I need help!"

"Calm down," the voice softened. "Where are you?"

"In the mountains somewhere," Charlie replied. "We were attacked and then brought back to this cabin."

"Where is the person that attacked you?"

"They're both dead." Charlie took a shaky breath as the tiniest flicker of regret crossed his mind. "My brother's an FBI agent. Please… you have to send help."

"It's okay," Buttercup One assured him. "What's your name, son?"

"Charles Eppes."

"Okay Charles. I can track this transmission and get a fix on your location – just make sure you leave the radio on, okay?"

"Okay," Charlie agreed. "Thank you."

"My pleasure. Now, you go try to stop your brother's bleeding and help will be there before you know it."

Charlie raced back to the front of the cabin, shuddering in revulsion as he passed in front of Gary's unseeing eyes. He forced the feeling from his mind and knelt beside Don, gently rolling him onto his back and wincing as Don's head lolled limply to the side. "Don?" he called pleadingly. "Wake up for me, bro." He patted Don's cheek lightly, frowning when his brother didn't stir. "Don!" Charlie's heart sank as Don remained unconscious but he took comfort in the fact that the injured man's heart was still beating.

He retrieved the first aid kit from Don's pack where it still rested in the bedroom, and sat down cross-legged next to his brother. The younger man lifted Don into his lap, making sure that he had his knee under the arrow wound on Don's shoulder. He checked to make sure that the knife wound hadn't gone all the way through the other shoulder and let out a deep breath when he saw that it hadn't. Charlie grabbed two thick gauze pads and applied pressure to each puncture wound, making sure that he also applied pressure to the back of the arrow wound with his knee.

Don moaned as new waves of agony assaulted his body but his younger brother was relentless as he tried to stop the bleeding. "Hurts," Don groaned, only semi-conscious. "Stop."

"I'm sorry, Don," Charlie whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "I'm so sorry." He bent over and placed another soft kiss on Don's forehead, letting his lips linger there as he continued to apologize and urge the injured man to hang on. "Help's coming, Don. Do you hear me? Don't you dare give up."

"Char..." Don breathed.

"Shh, I'm here. Hang on, Don."

"Good... shot."

Don had been awake enough to realize what he'd done? "Shh, be quiet. We can talk about that later."

"Don't... tell... Dad."

Charlie felt a painful laugh tear from his throat. "I don't think we can keep this one a secret, Don." He kissed his brother again, trying to ignore the waves of heat coming from his fever-wracked body. "Just hold on, okay?"

"...'Kay."

--

Charlie didn't realize he'd dozed off until he woke to feel Don slipping from his grasp. For some reason he couldn't make his eyes open, so he blindly tightened his grip and was confused as two hands grabbed his, gently prying his fingers loose. Knowing that he had to control Don's bleeding, Charlie desperately struggled to adjust his grip.

"Sir, you have to let go," an unfamiliar male voice spoke in his ear.

A chill went down Charlie's spine. Was there a third man that he didn't know about? _No, I won't let you hurt him again._

"We won't hurt him," the voice assured him. Charlie decided that he must have spoken aloud. "We want to help you both but you have to let go."

_He's trying to trick me, like Gary did. No… I won't fall for it._

"No tricks..." the man lowered his voice and Charlie could hear only a muffled noise as he conferred with someone else. "...Charles. Can you open your eyes for me?"

Charlie shook his head, afraid he'd wake up to an even worse nightmare than the one he'd just lived through.

"Come on, Charles," the man urged. "Buttercup One sent us. Do you remember speaking to her?"

"Yes," the young professor shakily answered. "She sent you?"

"Yes, that's right. She got your location and sent us to help." Charlie felt a gloved hand probing next to his ear. "I really need you to open your eyes, Charles."

"My name's Charlie," he slurred as he obeyed. He saw a young man his age dressed in a dark blue paramedic's uniform smiling at him. "How's Don?" Charlie tried to turn his head to see for himself, but the medic stopped him.

"He's going to be fine," the man said as he continued to probe at Charlie's head wound.

"You're sure?" the young Eppes weakly demanded.

"Positive."

"Good," Charlie sighed and let his eyes drift close. Don was okay – that was all that mattered.

"Open your eyes for me, Charlie!"

But the young professor was oblivious to the medic's frantic calls, having already surrendered to the encroaching darkness.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

_God, my head hurts,_ was Charlie's first thought as he woke. He tried to reach up to rub the pain away and frowned as he felt something restraining his arm. Panic began to creep in as Charlie considered the possibility that Gary wasn't dead and had tied him down while he waited to kill him. The young man frantically tugged on whatever was holding his arm, desperately afraid for his and Don's lives.

"Shh," a calm voice whispered in his ear. "You're okay, Charlie."

_Where do I know that voice?_ He tried to open his eyes but they seemed to be glued shut.

"Calm down Son," the voice spoke. "You're going to pull your IV out if you keep struggling."

"Dad?" Charlie croaked as he identified the speaker.

"I'm here," Alan replied softly as he stroked his son's cheek. "Are you with me now?"

The young man nodded and immediately regretted the action as the pounding in his head grew worse.

"Lie still," his father soothed him. "You've got a nasty head injury."

"Don?" Charlie blurted out. "Is he okay?"

"He's here, too," Alan told him.

The young man finally managed to drag his eyes open and felt the tension leave his body as his father's haggard face smiled down at him. "Where?"

"You're in the hospital."

"..Know that," the younger man yawned. "Where's Don?" At his father's evasive look, Charlie struggled to sit up. "You said he was here."

"Shh, Calm down," Alan whispered as he easily pinned his youngest son to the bed. "He _is_ here, just not in this room."

"What aren't you telling me?" Charlie demanded loudly, setting off a mini bout of fireworks in his head. "He's okay, right?"

Alan's expression grew sad. "He's in ICU, Charlie. He lost a lot of blood."

"But he's going to be okay," Charlie pleaded. "He has to be."

"The doctors are optimistic," Alan said with a forced smile. "He should be out of ICU within a couple of days."

"What else?"

Alan sighed and shook his head. "You need to sleep, Son. We can talk about this later."

Charlie clutched at his father's sleeve and looked him in the eye. "I have to know." He felt tears welling and fought back a sob. "_Please._"

"Charlie..." Alan trailed off as he saw the determination in his son's eyes. "His right shoulder – there was a lot of damage there. They couldn't operate when he got here because he was too weak from the blood loss. They're going to operate as soon as he's strong enough, but..."

"But what?" Charlie whispered.

"There's a good chance Don will never have full use of that arm again."

"But he's right handed," he protested. "That means he wouldn't be able to fire his gun. He couldn't go back to being a field agent."

"I know," Alan said despairingly. "At this point, all we can do is wait and see."

--

Alan leaned back in his chair and watched his youngest son sleep, taking pleasure in simply watching the rise and fall of his chest. After he'd told Charlie about Don's condition, it had taken fifteen minutes to soothe him back to slumber. Alan mentally kicked himself for telling his son as much as he had about his older brother's condition, but he had held back the worst details. After all, it wouldn't do Charlie any good to know that Don had flat lined twice in the ER, or that he was currently having his breathing supported by a ventilator, or that he was fighting off a nasty infection, or that he'd yet to wake up since he'd been brought in.

Don had been given blood, which had improved his cardiac function and the doctors had assured Alan that the ventilator was only to take some of the strain off of Don while he grew stronger. As for his oldest son's unconscious state, that seemed to be a combination of factors including stress, exhaustion, and the sedatives the nurses kept pushing through his IV – partly to help him rest and partly so that he wouldn't wake up and fight the ventilator. The ER doctor had informed Alan that Don would be in a critical state for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours while they tried to eliminate the infection, but that he didn't foresee any complications or long term effects from his injuries with the exception of his damaged right shoulder. When Alan had asked what the chances were of the damage being repairable the doctor had just smiled and told him that they were always hopeful.

At least Charlie's prognosis was brighter. He was suffering from a concussion, a severe contusion to his lower back and exhaustion – all things that would heal with time and not have any long-term, lingering effects. Charlie's mental state after all he had been through was a different story and Alan had asked Megan to stay handy in case he needed her advice, or in case Charlie – by some huge miracle – decided he wanted to talk to someone.

Alan wearily sighed and checked his watch – six fifty-five in the evening. If he hurried, he could squeeze in a fifteen-minute visit with his other son. He stood and stretched his stiff joints, dropped a tender kiss on Charlie's head and walked as he quickly as he could to the Intensive Care Unit. He waved at the evening nurse and found his way to Don's room, slipping quietly through the door.

Although he had visited Don several times since his sons were brought here a little over twenty-four hours ago, he still couldn't help but be shocked by Don's appearance. His vision blurred with tears as he studied his eldest son's pale, lax features marred by the ventilator tube that hung from the corner of his mouth. He moved closer to the bed and dropped into the familiar chair, leaning over and taking Don's hand in his own. As always, his skin felt too warm for Alan's liking so he grabbed the damp cloth the nurses left by the bed – just for him – and started wiping Don's face.

"Oh Donny," he whispered sadly as he smoothed his hand through the short, spiky hair. "You're going to be all right. I'm here and Charlie will be here as soon as he gets better." His gaze dropped to the thick bandaging on Don's right shoulder, and his mind whirled with images of what might have caused the injury. "No one knows exactly what happened," he told Don. "Apparently Charlie radioed that you had been shot and stabbed by two men in the woods. They found the knife that caused the wound in your left shoulder, but they're not sure what happened to your right shoulder." He paused, setting the cloth down and gently wiped a stray eyelash from Don's cheek. He let his hand linger there as he kept talking. "I don't suppose you want to wake up and tell me what happened? I know Megan is going to take Charlie's statement as soon as he's up for visitors. I asked her if it was okay that she takes his statement since she's a family friend but she said it's pretty much a formality at this point and the crime did happen in a national park so the FBI can claim jurisdiction. I know she just wants to make it as easy on your brother as possible. That's a heck of a team you've got, Donny. I hope you tell them that often enough."

Alan glanced at his watch, dismayed to discover he only had five minutes left. "Okay, I've got to go soon, so how about some happier things?" He moved his hand from Don's cheek to his stomach and lightly rubbed small circles through the gown. "Stan and I got that client we were after. It's a six-month project and he's agreed to some very generous terms. I was thinking – and don't you dare tell your brother this – of buying him car with part of the money. I know he can afford one himself but he doesn't seem to want to go out and buy one. Maybe this way he'll feel guilty that I bought it and he'll start driving again. Kind of like kicking the baby bird out of the nest so he'll learn to fly. But remember, that's _our_ little secret, okay?"

A nurse poked her head through the door and cleared her throat, indicating that Alan's fifteen minutes were up. He thankfully smiled at her and looked back at Don. "I've got to go now, Son." He carefully laid Don's hand back on the bed and rose from the chair. "I'll see you tomorrow morning during the first visiting time, okay?" He bent over and gently kissed Don on the forehead. "Rest well and get better soon. Remember, Charlie and I are here for you no matter what." He smoothed his son's dark hair one more time before turning and leaving the room.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Alan returned to the hospital bright and early the next morning and popped into Charlie's room first. He was overjoyed to see his youngest sitting up in bed and eating – okay, playing with – a bowl of plain oatmeal. "Charlie!" he exclaimed happily.

"Hey, Dad," the younger man answered, his tone flat and his eyes lifeless.

Alan frowned as he moved to his son's side and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I've got a headache and my back still hurts."

"I know." Alan soothingly rubbed his son's shoulder. "The bruising on your back is pretty severe. Have you asked for any pain medicine this morning?"

Charlie just shrugged and went back to pushing the oatmeal around the bowl with his spoon.

"Have you actually eaten any of that?" Alan asked with concern.

Charlie shrugged again and the worry Alan was feeling increased one hundred fold. Just as he thought he couldn't stand the silence anymore, Megan strode into the room.

"Morning, Charlie! Mr. Eppes!"

"Megan," Alan greeted her, his tension lessening a bit at her cheerful demeanor. "What brings you here?"

"I wanted to see if Charlie was up for giving me his statement yet," she told him as she perched on the edge of the bed. "What do you say, Charlie? I could really use your help."

"Fine," he sighed, shoving the full bowl of oatmeal away from him with such force that it almost flew off the tray.

Alan's reflexes were still good even at his age and he managed to keep the bowl on the tray. "You go ahead, Charlie," he told him as he checked his watch. "It's visiting hours in the ICU. I'll be back after a while."

"Don?" Charlie asked with a hint of emotion in his voice.

"Right," Alan nodded.

"Is he... okay?"

"He's getting better every day," Alan answered. _Just like I wish you would,_ he added silently.

"Will you tell him I said hi?" Charlie asked hopefully.

"Of course, Charlie," Alan agreed as he embraced his youngest son. "You can tell him yourself soon, alright?"

"Yeah," Charlie whispered brokenly.

Alan released him and smiled warmly, running a gentle hand through the dark, curly hair. "I'll be back in a bit." He smiled and pointedly nodded at Megan, breathing a sigh of relief when she winked back. He left the room confident that Megan could help Charlie make some progress in his emotional recovery.

In a few minutes Alan was in the ICU wing, walking past the nurses' station and waving at the woman on duty.

"Mr. Eppes!" she called, gesturing for him to stop.

His stomach plummeted as thoughts of what might have happened to Don raced through his mind. "Yes?" he replied, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Oh, no." She smiled brightly. "I didn't mean to worry you. I have _good _news."

"I could use some of that," he told her.

"Don's vitals improved considerably overnight. His respiration became much more efficient, so we've taken him off the ventilator and just have him on oxygen."

"That's wonderful!" Alan exclaimed.

"Yes," the young woman nodded. "The doctor has started easing off on the sedative as well. We're going to let him wake up today. I doubt it will be this morning, but it should be soon."

"Don's a stubborn man," Alan chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised if he was trying to wake up right now."

"Oh?" she asked in amusement. "Well, if he is, just be there for him and keep him calm. Call me and I'll have the doctor come in and talk with him about his condition."

"I will," Alan grinned happily as he walked to his oldest son's room. He pushed open the door and his grin widened as he saw Don was indeed freed from the horrible ventilator. The older man wearily sank into the chair by his son's bedside and sighed happily. "Good job, Donny. I knew you could do it."

"Mmm," the injured man mumbled at the sound of his father's voice.

"_Donny?_ Are you awake, Son?"

"Dad," he whispered, the one word barely audible.

"I'm here," Alan assured him as he reached out and smoothed his son's hair. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

After a few moments of silence Don spoke again. "Too... heavy."

"Shh. That's okay, Donny. Hold on and let me get the nurse." Alan pressed the call button and informed the duty nurse that Don was awake.

"You weren't kidding about him being stubborn, were you?" she laughed.

"I should know – I have been his father for thirty-six years." Alan sat back down and slipped his hand into Don's. "Stay awake for me. The doctor wants to talk to you."

"Char... lie?"

"He's fine, Don. He says hi."

"Fine?"

"Well, he had a knock on the head and some bad bruising so they've kept him here for two nights just to be safe. I suspect he'll be released today."

"No," Don whispered, starting to shift as he became agitated. "Shooting."

"Calm down," Alan insisted. "We can talk about this later."

"First time... hard."

The older man shook his head as he tried to figure out what Don was talking about.

"Megan," Don breathed. "She... help."

"She's taking his statement right now," Alan said as he caressed Don's cheek. "But you don't worry about any of that, okay? Just stay calm for me and let's talk to the doctor." He didn't know if it was his words or the knowledge that Megan was with Charlie, but Don did settle down, relaxing under his father's gentle touch.

"Mr. Eppes?"

Alan looked up to see a medium build, middle aged man in a white lab coat strolling through the door. "I'm Don's father," he introduced himself, though the doctor clearly knew that already.

"Yes," he smiled. "I'm Doctor Jackson. I've been monitoring your son's care for the past couple of days." Seeing that Don's eyes were open and blearily looking at him, Jackson moved to the bedside and beamed at his patient. "Ah. Good to see you awake, Agent Eppes. Are you in any pain?"

"No," Don whispered. "Fuzzy."

"I know," Jackson said as he placed a hand on the injured man's knee. "That's the effects of the sedatives wearing off. You should be feeling much more alert by lunchtime." He looked at Alan before continuing. "In fact, we plan on moving him to a regular room around then."

"So he's out of the woods?" Alan asked eagerly.

"Yes," the other man nodded. "His vitals are looking excellent, so it's time for him to get out of here. I know you're both excited about that." He glanced at Don who nodded sleepily. "Now there is another doctor who'll be coming by once we get you settled into your new room. His name is Doctor Martinez and he'll be the surgeon who'll be working on your shoulder."

Don's eyes clouded as he turned his head to glance at the heavily bandaged joint. "How bad?"

"I couldn't tell you, Agent Eppes. That's not my specialty. But Doctor Martinez is the one of the best surgeons in his field. You'll definitely be in good hands."

Alan sensed that Jackson did have an opinion on the damage to his son's shoulder but didn't want to upset him any further while he was coming out of the sedative-induced slumber. "Thank you," Alan said, appreciating the doctor's thoughtfulness.

"Glad I could be of service. Oh, and the nurse wanted me to remind you that visiting time is over." He frowned apologetically. "But once he gets into his new room the visiting hours there are much more relaxed."

"Good." Alan turned to his son and cupped his cheek, smiling warmly at Don's drowsy expression. "You take it easy and get better. I'll see you as soon as they get you moved, okay?"

"'Kay," he mumbled sleepily. "Tell Charlie... said hi."

"I will, Donny. See you soon."

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

"Do I have to do this now?"

"The sooner the better, Charlie," Megan said patiently. "I need to know what happened so I can get this case closed." She smiled gently. "And it will help for you to talk about it."

Charlie snorted in disbelief. "I seriously doubt it."

"I know you don't think it will, but you'd be surprised."

"Whatever," the young man pouted as he leaned back against his pillows. "So where do I start?"

"You and Don were on vacation, right?"

"Yes. A hiking trip sounded like a good idea at the time. Actually," his brow furrowed as he thought. "It was my idea."

"You two did need a break after that string of cases we had. We all needed a break." Trying to find a way to cheer Charlie up, she leaned close and whispered, "Want to know what Colby did?"

Despite his mood, Charlie was intrigued. "What?"

"He took a ballet class."

"No," the younger man cracked a faint smile.

"I swear – I'm not lying. He went on and on about how some of the most macho guys take ballet because it helps with balance and flexibility."

"I suppose." Charlie shook his head.

"To hear him tell it, every girl in that class swooned when they saw him in tights. I'd say he was exaggerating but his cell has been ringing non-stop. And every call ends with 'that sounds great. Let me check my schedule and get back to you.' Can you believe that?"

"He's a real Don Juan, huh?" Charlie started laughing, the first true emotion he'd shown since being brought to the hospital.

"So he says," she sighed as she shook her head. Megan let Charlie's laughter subside and placed a gentle hand on his knee. "You ready to go on?"

"Okay," he whispered. He arduously began recounting the events of the ill-fated vacation, his voice cracking with anguish as he detailed Don's initial injury, oblivious to the look of shock on Megan's face when he mentioned the word 'arrow'. "I really thought he wasn't going to make it toward the end. And then some guy found us and..." Charlie's eyes shone with tears. "I thought he was going to help us, but he was the one who had shot Don. He attacked me and aimed his gun at Don. I heard a shot and..." Tears fell as he remembered thinking that his brother had just been murdered in front of him.

"It's okay, Charlie," Megan soothed. "You both made it, remember?"

The young man nodded and sniffed as he wiped his tears away. "I opened my eyes and Gary was standing there asking me if I was okay. He'd shot our attacker and he seemed genuinely interested in helping us. He even mentioned that he thought our attacker was responsible for some missing hikers in the area." Charlie's tone grew desperate. "I mean he would have just killed us if he wanted us dead, right? There's no reason for him to have saved us. That's what I thought... Oh God, it's because of me, isn't it?"

"What?" Megan asked in confusion.

"I trusted him to take us to safety. He told me he had an old ranger's cabin and that he could get us help quickly." He met Megan's eyes. "I wanted to believe him so badly. Too badly, I guess. I led Don right into his trap. How could I do that to him?"

"You didn't do anything," Megan assured him. "Everything you've told me makes perfect sense. I would have done the same thing, Charlie."

"Right," Charlie said bitterly. "Then we got to the cabin and he left us – said he was calling for help. That's when I started noticing things didn't seem right. I left Don on the bed – I left him _alone_ – and went to look around the house. By the time I figured it out Gary had come back and was laughing at me. He said that he was going to kill us and I just stood there while he grabbed me and forced me back to the bedroom."

Megan could see the young man was on the verge of hyperventilating so she softly whispered, "Take it easy, Charlie."

He nodded and tried to take deep breaths. When he felt a little better he sighed and continued. "He threw me on the floor and started to pull the arrow out of Don's shoulder. I had Don's gun and I pointed it at him and told him to stop. He just started laughing again and started to hurt Don... It took so much willpower to do it. I mean, I've never even thought about shooting someone before... I pulled the trigger but he'd taken the bullets out the night before. I just knew my stupidity was about to get us both killed."

"It's not stupid, Charlie. You were under a lot of stress and you were doing the best you could to care for Don. You had no way of knowing."

"Don would have known," Charlie whispered. "I think he _did_ know, actually. He asked me if I trusted Gary. I told him yes and he let it go because he trusted _me_." Charlie placed a hand over his eyes. "Oh God, he trusted me and look where it got him."

"To a hospital where he's alive and recovering," Megan said firmly. "You seem to keep forgetting that part, Charlie." She patiently waited as Charlie brooded, finally interrupting the silence when she thought he could continue. "What happened then?"

"Don attacked Gary and yelled at me to run. I didn't want to but he'd caused himself so much pain just so I could get away... I ran and for some reason – I have no idea why – I grabbed a rifle on the way out the front door. I hid in the woods and started telling myself what I had to do." He took a deep breath and forced himself to speak. "I was still trying to gather my courage when Gary hauled Don out onto the front porch. The coward was hiding behind him and started yelling for me to come back or he'd hurt Don again."

Megan frowned as she watched the color drain from Charlie's face. She shifted toward the head of the bed and hugged him against her shoulder. "It's okay. Don's okay. You have to keep telling yourself that so you can get through this, alright?"

He nodded against her shoulder and she felt his body shake with a silent sob. "He _did_ hurt him. I was aiming the rifle very carefully because I knew I couldn't hit Don. He stabbed him in his other shoulder and Don cried out in pain. Part of me just wanted to give up and wait for someone to come rescue us but I knew that wasn't going to happen. I made myself ignore Don's cries... I never thought I'd be able to do that. It makes me feel inhuman to know that I can."

"You _had_ to, Charlie. For Don's sake. Yours, too."

"Anyway, I did it. I shot him. I waited to make sure he wasn't going to get back up and then ran to Don. I just knew he was dead – that I had waited too long. But then I found a pulse and saw he was breathing... I've never felt more relieved in my life."

Megan took a moment to think about the shot that Charlie had successfully made – one she doubted any professionally trained sniper would want to take – before she found her voice again. "That's when you called for help?"

"Yeah. They had a CB radio. Thank God Larry was rambling on about that particular hobby one day, or I would never have known what to do."

"Good ol' Larry," she laughed softly. She tightened her embrace and placed her cheek against Charlie's. "You did a great job, Charlie. I don't just mean with the statement – you did a great job in saving Don's life."

"I don't feel like it," he argued quietly.

"And you probably won't for a while. That's perfectly normal, but you _will_ start to feel better. I'd advise you to talk to someone that understands what you went through."

"You mean a shrink?" he demanded angrily.

"If you want, but I was thinking about someone else. Someone who would understand not only the horrors of this particular situation but the way you feel after shooting someone."

"Like who?"

Megan rolled her eyes and playfully shoved Charlie as she let him go. "How about your brother?"

"No." He shook his head. "He's got enough to deal with right now. His shoulder..." Charlie turned a bright shade of green and Megan wondered how bad Don's injury was. She made a mental note to ask Alan. "No," Charlie insisted suddenly. "I can't burden him with this."

"I think that you should talk to him," she stated. "But if you don't want to, I'll get you the name of a psychologist that I really trust, okay?"

"I'm not promising to go," the young man pouted.

"I know," Megan replied. "But I want you to have someone to go to when you feel the time is right."

"Okay," he reluctantly agreed. He hesitated as he fingered the hospital blanket "Thanks for doing this, Megan. I don't think I could have told all of that to a stranger."

"Anytime, Charlie." She glanced at the door, her eyes twinkling as she saw a distinctly Alan-shaped shadow lurking outside. "I'm going to go find your father for you."

"Megan!" Charlie called in a panic.

"What is it?"

"Don't... Don't tell my dad, okay?"

"I won't," she promised. "But I think you should."

He frantically shook his head. "I couldn't bear to see the disappointment in his eyes."

"Charlie-"

"Please," he begged softly.

"Okay, I won't. Now just relax and let me go find him for you."

--

Alan was practically pacing the hallway as he waited for Megan to emerge from his son's room. As soon as she did, he gave her a stern, fatherly look. "How is he? And don't lie to me, Megan."

"He's depressed," she told him. "But that's to be expected after an incident like this. I strongly advised him to talk to someone, but he doesn't want to."

"He's just as stubborn as his brother," Alan muttered in frustration.

"It's still fresh," Megan gently pointed out. "Give him time and I think he'll come around."

"What exactly happened?"

Megan swallowed nervously. "He asked that I not tell you and since technically I was on the job taking his statement, I have to respect his wishes." Seeing the look of frustration on Alan's face, she pressed on. "It's very important that we let him take this at his own pace. If we force anything, it could be detrimental. You understand that, right, Mr. Eppes?"

Normally he would remind her to call him Alan, but he was still feeling a little miffed. "I guess so. It's just that I'm so worried about him. I've never seen him in such bad shape."

"I know," Megan said sympathetically. "I can't tell you specifics but I can tell you that what he went through was something that even the most seasoned field agent would have problems with."

Alan frowned as he mulled over her words. _What was it Donny told me? 'Shooting. First time hard.' Oh God, did my youngest son have to..._ "Megan," Alan asked quietly. "Who shot the man that had taken my boys?" He knew he'd guessed right as shock registered on her face. "Charlie had to, didn't he?"

"How did...?" she trailed off and shook her head. "I _can't_ tell you. Although I will say that your paternal instincts are... incredible." She patted Alan's arm and smiled reassuringly. "Just remember, he has to deal with this on his terms and at his own pace if he's going to be successful. _And_, I didn't tell you a thing."

"Of course not," Alan promised her. "I'll try to take your advice, but it's just so hard to sit helplessly and watch while he beats himself up over this."

"You're a wonderful father, Mr. Eppes. If anyone can do this, you can."

"Thanks." The older man smiled. "And you should know by now to call me Alan."

--

"Hey, Charlie."

The young man looked up at his father and forced a weak smile to his face. "Dad."

"How are you feeling?"

There was something in Alan's eyes that made Charlie suspect that Megan might have talked. "A little better," he said warily. "Why? Did Megan say something?"

"No," Alan shook his head and sighed. "I asked but she wouldn't tell me a thing."

_Thank you, Megan_. "I'm... I'm just not ready to talk about it, Dad. I mean, I had to give my statement to her so they can finish up the case, but I can't do it again right now."

Alan reached out and laid his hand on his son's cheek. "I understand, Charlie. But promise me one thing."

"What?"

"You'll remember what your family is here for when you _do_ feel like talking."

Charlie nodded and covered his father's hand with his own. "I will."

"Good," Alan beamed. "Now, on to happier matters. Don says hi."

"He's awake?" Charlie asked excitedly.

"Yes, the doctor is weaning him off of the sedatives and letting him wake up. In fact, they expect him to be moved out of ICU around lunchtime today."

"That's wonderful," Charlie grinned. "What about his shoulder?"

"There's a surgeon scheduled to meet with him later today to discuss his injury. We'll find out more then." Charlie grew silent as he pondered what Don's life would be like if he could never be a field agent again. "Hey," Alan gently nudged his son. "Think positive thoughts – for Don's sake, okay?"

"I'll try."

"Now, for the other piece of good news." The older man paused until Charlie gave him an impatient look. "I ran into your doctor while you were talking to Megan. You're scheduled to be released in a couple of hours."

"Really?"

"Yes," Alan nodded happily. "That should be about the same time Don is getting settled in his new room, so I figured we'd go visit, meet his surgeon and then I'll take you back to our hotel room."

"Hotel room?" Charlie queried.

"Yes. I've got a room here at the hospital's hotel. I know I can commute from the house but I couldn't stand the thought of being that far away from you two after everything that's happened."

"Sounds good." Charlie agreed, also liking the idea of being right there in the hospital hotel in case anything happened to Don.

"Alright then, sounds like a plan," Alan smiled. "I brought some of your clothes but I left them in the room. I'm going to go grab them and I'll be back by lunch, okay?"

"Sure, Dad. See you then."

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Don was staring up at the ceiling of his 'prison', wondering just how much longer he was going to have to be here. He hated hospitals and every memory they brought to mind with a passion. He gritted his teeth as a sharp pain from his shoulder jarred him from his thoughts. As someone who prided himself on being stalwart, Don was surprised to find himself praying that the nurse would bring his pain medication soon.

"Donny," his father called softly as he pushed the door open. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah," he replied as he turned his head and smiled. "And bored out of my wits."

"I can believe that," Alan laughed as he stepped inside, dragging someone through the door behind him. "Look who I brought."

"Charlie!" Don cried gleefully, stretching out his hand toward his little brother. "Come here."

Charlie smiled at his brother's positive attitude and quickly moved to his side, taking Don's hand in his. "How are you, Don?"

"I'm feeling much better now that my family's here." He squeezed Charlie's hand and lowered his voice so that Alan couldn't hear them "How are _you_?"

"I'm hanging in there," Charlie sighed.

"If you want to talk-"

"I don't," Charlie cut him off. "But thanks for the offer."

Don pulled him down to his chest and wrapped his left arm around him, wincing as he tugged at the stitches in the knife wound. "I'm here when you're ready," he whispered firmly, not letting go until Charlie nodded.

"Hey," a lighthearted male voice sounded from the doorway. "Be careful with my patient."

The three Eppes men looked up at an older man wearing surgical scrubs. "I was just..." Charlie fumbled.

"He's fine," Don growled at the man in the doorway.

"I'm kidding," the scrub-clad man smiled and threw up his hands in surrender. "That right there is some of the best medicine money can't buy. I love to see my patients with strong familial support. It makes their recovery go so much easier and faster." He walked up to Alan and stuck out his hand. "I'm Doctor Martinez."

"Alan Eppes, Don's father."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir." He released Alan's hand and took Charlie's, giving him a firm, reassuring handshake. "And you must be Don's brother."

"Charlie," he nodded, his expression surprised. "How'd you know?"

"Are you kidding? The family resemblance is incredible! Well," he added with a twinkle in his eye, "That, and my nurse told me his father and brother were visiting with him right now."

Don smiled as Martinez gripped his hand and squeezed. The doctor's cheerful demeanor was really welcome, especially as he saw the tension draining from the faces of his family. "Nice to meet you, Doc."

"I must apologize for my attire, but I only had about an hour between surgeries to pop in and meet you. I do clean up nice, I assure you." His deep laughter echoed around the room as he gestured for Alan and Charlie to have a seat in the room's two chairs. He turned his attention back to Don. "So, I've been over your x-rays and your chart from the ER. That's a lot of damage in your shoulder there. Now, I know Doctor Jackson was keeping you sedated so you could rest up and get your strength back, but did anyone go over the details of your injury or the prognosis for your recovery?"

"No," Don answered.

"And you, Mr. Eppes?"

Alan nodded faintly. "One of the ER doctors mentioned it to me. Doctor Jackson said it wasn't his specialty and wouldn't go into any details."

"And by the look on your face I can determine what the ER doctor must have told you. Well, first of all I want you to forget whatever he said. Doctor Jackson was right in that only a specialist – like myself – can give you an accurate diagnosis. Okay?" Smiling as Alan nodded, he continued. "Secondly, my diagnosis will be an educated guess until I get in there..." he gestured to Don's bandaged right shoulder. "...And start looking around."

"What's your educated guess?" Don inquired with some degree of dread.

"Your chart says you're an FBI agent, right?" Don nodded. "I suspect you like the facts and just the facts."

"Good assumption," Don told him.

"Well then I won't beat around the bush. The x-rays show two fractures to your scapula, an incomplete fracture at the neck of the scapula where it connects to your humerous and a complete fracture in the lower body of the scapula." Martinez paused while he gestured to the places he spoke of on his own shoulder.

"What's the difference between incomplete and complete?" Charlie asked.

"It's just like it sounds, actually. Incomplete means the two pieces of bone are still sitting next to each other, while a complete means we have complete separation of the bone. In a case involving so much trauma – like Don's – we perform surgery to set the bones." Seeing that all three men were following him, he nodded and picked up where he left off. "Now, the x-rays also show some musculature and soft tissue damage. In particular, your pectoralis major and deltoid, although I suspect there will be some damage to your teres minor once I get a closer look." Again, Martinez pointed out the locations of the three muscles on his own body. "Everybody with me so far?"

The Eppes men nodded, although each one was looking decidedly glummer than before Martinez's talk.

"Okay. Then we all need to listen very carefully to the next thing I'm about to say. Don, this is a lot of damage and there is more than a slight chance that it's just too severe for you to be able to recover full use of your arm. In fact, until I perform the surgery and start to repair your shoulder, I'd have to say you're chances are fifty-fifty at best. But remember: I won't know for sure until after the surgery and I've got to warn you, I am the world's _biggest_ optimist. The hard part that goes along with that is that I expect my patients and their families to share my optimism, okay?"

"But you just said-" Charlie began.

"That I wouldn't know for sure until _after_ the surgery. I am very hopeful that I'll discover the damage isn't that severe after all and that Don will come through this whole situation with flying colors."

"You'll have to excuse him, Doc," Don said, attempting to keep his tone light. "He's a first class mathematician and everything is about the numbers to him."

"Oh." Martinez smiled at the youngest Eppes. "Believe me, son. In my field there's a lot of stats and numbers but I've learned not to buy into them." He winked at Charlie and gave him a huge, bright smile. "Would you like to know why?"

"Why?" Charlie sighed, reluctantly playing along with his brother's surgeon.

"Because there is no way to quantify the things that really count – the patient's will and desire to recover and the amount of support from his family."

Don saw Charlie's eyes light up and knew he was thinking back to the case with Nikki Davis. "Actually," his younger brother suddenly grinned at Martinez. "You _can_ quantify that. And, that being said, I am feeling _very_ optimistic."

"Good," Martinez moved across the room and clapped the young professor on the shoulder. "Now I hate to do this, but I do need you two to step outside for me while I take a closer look at Don's shoulder. It won't be for long, I promise."

Alan and Charlie reluctantly obeyed, assuring Don they would be back as soon as Martinez was finished. After they were gone the doctor paged a nurse into the room to help with his examination. "I'm afraid this is going to hurt quite a bit but I need to know what we're working with."

"Do what you have to do," Don told him.

Martinez lightly patted his arm. "That's a fine attitude, Don. Keep it up and you'll be on your road to recovery in no time."

The next ten minutes were pure hell for Don as the bandaging from his shoulder was removed and the injured joint was flexed and prodded. He clenched his eyes shut against the agony and tried to take deep breaths.

"You're doing great," Martinez spoke softly as he placed a fatherly hand on Don's forehead. "Just a few more minutes and I'll be done."

Don nodded silently as he focused all of his effort on not crying out at the intense, throbbing pain. He felt a soft, cool hand replace the doctor's and cracked his eyes open to find the nurse smiling down at him. "I've injected something for it into your IV. Hang on and you'll feel better very soon." He nodded and closed his eyes again as she started to replace the bandage his shoulder.

"Okay, Don. You did great," Martinez's voice floated over him, warm and comforting. "No signs of the infection from earlier and you seem to have a lot of your strength back. I'm going to schedule your surgery for tomorrow morning and, if all goes well, you should be out of here and back home within forty-eight to seventy-two hours after that."

"Good," Don smiled wearily. "Thanks, Doc."

"My pleasure. Now hold tight and I'll get your family back in here."

Don closed his eyes and a few minutes later he felt his father's hand on his forehead. "I'm okay, Dad."

"You don't look it," Alan informed him. "You look like you're in a lot of pain."

"Nurse gave me something for it. It's starting to work."

"Not fast enough," Alan countered.

"Where's Charlie?"

"Right here, bro." Don felt his little brother's hand squeeze his.

"You're awfully quiet," Don said as he yawned.

"Just happy to know you're okay," Charlie replied as he rubbed soft circles on the back of his brother's hand.

"I'm a little tired," Don whispered, prompting his father to start stroking his hair.

"Go to sleep then, Donny," the older man's voice rumbled in Don's ear. "We'll stay here until you do."

"Surgery's..." he trailed off in a big yawn.

"Tomorrow morning," Alan finished. "Doctor Martinez told us. We'll be back then to wish you luck."

"'Kay."

"Shh, just go to sleep."

"Charlie?" Don mumbled again as he started to drift off.

"I'm right here, Don."

"You did good," Don's words were barely audible as sleep pulled him under.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Alan woke to a low moan. He opened his eyes and stared up at the darkened ceiling of the hotel room. Another low moan followed by harsh breathing set his senses on alert. He sat up and flipped on the nightstand lamp just in time to see Charlie bolt out of bed and crash on the floor.

"_No!"_ his youngest son screamed, his eyes wide and filled with terror.

"Charlie!" Alan rose from his bed and rushed to the younger man's side, dropping to his knees and trying to hold him close.

"No," Charlie sobbed as he fought his father's attempts. "Stop hurting him. Oh God, please stop hurting him."

"Shh," Alan whispered. "Don's fine, Charlie." The older man kept struggling and finally got his arms wrapped around his son. He held Charlie close and whispered in his ear, all the while lightly massaging his back and gently rocking him. "Shh. It's okay."

"It's not," Charlie sniffled as he buried his face in his father's chest. "It'll never be okay again. I keep seeing it every time I close my eyes."

"I know," Alan soothed. "But it _will_ get better. Especially if you talk to-"

"No!" Charlie yelled as broke free of his father's grip and flew to his feet. He stood, panting and disheveled as he glared down at his father. "Stop pushing me! I can't relive this... not again."

"Okay," Alan nodded. "I didn't mean to push. I just worry about you."

"Worry about _Don_," the younger man sighed, his energy flagging as he anger died away. "He's the one we should worry about now."

"I am," Alan admitted. "I'm trying to be optimistic, but I _am_ worried. I refuse to let Don see that, however."

"Me neither," Charlie said as he collapsed onto his bed. "I think that's why the dreams are so bad, because I'm holding my emotions in around him. They'll get better after he gets out of surgery."

It was a weak argument and they both knew it, but Alan remained silent as he rose to his feet. Moving to stand next to his son's bed, he tenderly drew the covers over him and smoothed the curly locks from his face. "Good night, Charlie. I love you."

"Love you too, Dad."

Alan watched in the dim light of the bedside lamp as Charlie fell asleep. He knew the mathematician was nearing his breaking point and he was pretty sure that only one person was going to be able to get him through it. He smiled as he thought about Don and his powers as a big brother to soothe Charlie's fears and pain. Now all Don had to do was get through the surgery with flying colors and then he could help Charlie.

--

"Eat," Alan commanded his youngest son.

"I'm not hungry," Charlie pouted as he glared at the baked chicken on his plate.

"Look – we can't do anything for Don now except wait and make sure we're strong for him when he gets out of surgery." Alan picked up Charlie's fork and thrust it into his hand. "So eat."

The younger man begrudgingly obeyed, cutting a small piece of chicken and chewing the flavorless meat in his mouth. "Hospital food is disgusting," he muttered.

Alan fought back a grin, happy to hear his son's voice, even if it was to complain. "Just think about your brother," he grinned. "He'll be on broth and jell-o for the rest of today."

"So you're telling me that it could be worse?" Charlie cocked an eyebrow and slowly returned his father's smile.

"Exactly," Alan laughed, frowning as he got his first taste of the bland chicken. "That _is_ pretty bad. Maybe we should have gone somewhere else and come back." He glanced at his watch and sighed. "We'd have had plenty of time, too."

They had arrived at the hospital early enough to visit with Don before his surgery. Of course, he was only lucid for the first few minutes until the drugs started kicking in and then it was basically several minutes of Alan and Charlie keeping their laughter at bay while Don rambled on about ridiculous topics. He even started singing at one point and Charlie had to convince him to keep quiet or he'd scare all the pretty nurses. Alan had been so relieved to watch his sons interact with one another – he just knew Don would be the best medicine for Charlie's emotional distress.

Doctor Martinez had arrived a little later and shook everyone's hand, greeting them with his cheerful words and putting them at ease. Even Don seemed completely carefree as they rolled him away from his family and into surgery, although the drugs in his system probably had something to do with that as well.

Charlie and Alan had waved goodbye and headed down to the cafeteria to wait. As soon as lunch was being served, Alan had bought two plates, despite his son's numerous protests about not being hungry.

"Dad."

"What?" Alan looked up, his thoughts drifting away as he returned to the present.

"If I have to eat, so do you." Charlie pointed at the chicken on his father's plate, still untouched except for the one missing bite.

"Oh… right." He forced another tasteless bite down and washed it away with a sip of water. Charlie started laughing and Alan looked at him with a bewildered expression on his face. "What's so funny?"

"That face you make when you're eating! It reminds me of when Don and I were kids, and you used to eat something to show us how good it was so we'd eat it too. You weren't very good at hiding it then, either."

"I know," Alan smiled. "Your mother always managed to trick me into being the taster. She was skilled at things like that."

"Yeah," Charlie quietly agreed. The two men lapsed into a comfortable silence as they reflected on their missing loved one.

"I wouldn't have made it if I had lost you and your brother, too," the older man said softly. "Whatever happened – or whatever you might have had to do to save yourselves – it was worth it. I mean that, Charlie."

"I know you do, but I still don't want to talk about it."

"That's fine. Honestly, I'm not pushing. I just really wanted you to know that."

"Thanks." Charlie glared at the chicken one last time and looked up at his father. "What do you say we blow this joint and go see if Don's out of surgery yet?"

Alan dropped his fork with relief. "Yes, let's. I don't think I could have eaten another bite."

--

Don slowly opened his eyes and stared at the overhead lights. _Where am I? Wait, I had surgery, right? Am I through? Where is everybody? What's the word on my shoulder? Do I get to keep being a field agent or... No, I can't let myself think like that. Seriously, is anybody here?_

"...lo?" he called weakly.

"Shh, Agent Eppes," a soft female voice whispered. "You're doing just fine. You're in recovery for about another ten to fifteen minutes and then we'll have you back in your room with your family."

"S'good."

"Just close your eyes and relax. You'll be gone before you know it."

He did as she suggested and drifted back into a restful slumber.

When he awoke later, he opened his eyes and saw ceiling tiles directly above him instead of bright, overhead lights. _Am I back in my room?_

"We're here, Donny."

He smiled at his father's voice. _Guess that answers my question._

"...lie?"

"Right here," his brother answered, gently rubbing his forearm. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," he whispered. "What 'bout... m'shoulder?"

"Doctor Martinez said the damage was nowhere near as severe as the x-rays had led him to believe," Alan told him. "He thinks that with a lot of rest and therapy you _will_ make a complete recovery. Did you hear that though, Donny? _Rest._ A lot of rest, which means lying in bed and not overdoing it. He said that applies to the therapy, too. Slow and steady is the key." Alan caressed Don's cheek and smiled warmly at him. "And I am _not_ above tying you to the bed to ensure that it happens."

"Always... smart remark."

"Consider it payback for your childhood," Alan teased. "How's the pain? I can get you something..."

"M'fine," Don mumbled around a yawn. "Sleepy."

"Then go to sleep," Alan whispered lovingly. "We aren't going anywhere, right Charlie?"

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away," the younger man assured his brother as he grasped his hand and squeezed.

"Good to hear," Don said as he squeezed back. He was soon lulled to sleep by the gentle caresses on his cheek and the light massage on his forearm; feeling surrounded by love and security.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

"Ten minutes and not a second more, you got that?"

"You sound like Dad," Don groaned at his little brother. "I _am_ a grown man, you know."

"Who has a tendency to push himself too hard," Charlie retorted. "We want you to get better, not re-injure yourself and possibly do permanent harm to your shoulder."

"Ten minutes," Don sighed. "I've got it."

Charlie took a seat on the living room couch and watched like a hawk as Don started to go through his rehabilitation exercises. Don went through a series of movements that had him raising and lowering his arms to his sides and then in front of him, as well as holding both arms at shoulder height and bringing his hands to meet in front of him. Charlie was immensely pleased as he watched Don tackle each chore with deliberate slow and steady motions. His brother winced a couple of times as his injured joint protested, but Charlie could tell that those were only minor twinges and knew those were to be expected for some time to come. Don finally moved into his last set of exercises which was simply to shrug his shoulders forwards and backwards.

Right as he counted ten on the last set, Charlie glanced at his watch. "Time's up," he announced.

"Like clockwork," Don grinned, subtly sneaking another shrug in.

"Hey, I saw that!" Charlie warned him. "Ten minutes is ten minutes, okay? Don't make me tie you down like Dad threatened we would."

"You and what army?" Don teased defiantly.

"I don't need an army with you only having one good arm," Charlie retorted. "And I have _these_." He dangled Don's handcuffs from his right index finger.

"Where'd you get those?" Don demanded.

"Dad snagged them when he went by your apartment to get your clothes and stuff. He said they might come in handy if we really did have to tie you down." Charlie beamed his best 'annoying little brother' smile.

"Man, it must be genetic," Don mumbled. "I can't seem to keep either one of you from going through my stuff." Charlie opened his mouth but Don quickly cut him off, seeming to know what was coming. "Don't say it! I know I have cool stuff, but this is ridiculous."

"It's because we care," Charlie whispered, his tone slightly hurt.

Don sighed and sank onto the couch next to his little brother. "I didn't mean to sound ungrateful, Buddy. God knows I couldn't have gotten through this without both of you." He paused and placed a hand on Charlie's knee. "Especially you."

Charlie averted his gaze and picked at the arm of the couch. He suddenly bolted to his feet, saying "Let me get the ice for your shoulder."

"Charlie-"

"I'll be right back," Charlie interrupted him, not bothering to look over his shoulder as he fled.

Once in the safety of the kitchen, he allowed himself to take a deep breath. He'd come very close to letting his emotions spill over in the living room just then, and he knew it wasn't fair to burden Don with that kind of baggage while he was still trying to recover from his own ordeal.

_Dammit, Eppes, you're a grown man. This shouldn't be that hard to cope with. So you shot a man? Big deal! It was him or your brother. You would rather it have been Don?_

"Of course not," Charlie muttered aloud.

_Then what's your problem?_

_I killed a man,_ Charlie argued with the little voice in his head. _That's the problem._

"Charlie!" Don's voice called from the other room.

"Coming!" He opened the freezer door and retrieved a Styrofoam cup that had been filled with water and then frozen. He tore off the very bottom of the cup and squeezed the ice down until it protruded from the hole. He grabbed a clean dishtowel and returned to the living room. He chuckled as he saw Don lying facedown, sprawled across the couch.

"I surrender," the older man said with a grin.

"And I was so looking forward to handcuffing you," Charlie joked. He sat on the edge of the couch by Don's hips and spread the towel across his brother's bare back, just below the shoulders. He placed the ice on Don's shoulder and began lightly massaging the injured joint with slow, baseball sized circles.

"That's cold," Don mumbled grouchily as he tensed and couldn't suppress a shiver.

"It's ice, Don," Charlie laughed softly. "You expected it to be warm?"

"Ever hear of Icy _Hot_?" Don shot back.

Charlie just shook his head and smiled as he continued providing the ice massage. As he got closer and closer to the point of injury, he couldn't help but stare at the puncture wound. The flesh around the entry point was still slightly swollen, but the stitches had been removed and the once jagged hole was now just a faint circle of bright pink flesh as it healed. Doctor Jackson had told them – and Doctor Martinez had confirmed – that Don would probably always have scars at the entry and exit point of the arrow. Even though the wound itself was looking much better, the memories associated with it were as strong as ever for Charlie and he started to feel sick.

"You okay?" Don asked, bringing him back to the present.

"I, um..." He swallowed deeply and shook his head. "I don't feel too well all of a sudden."

"You want to talk about it?" Don asked very carefully.

"No," Charlie snapped. "The sooner you and Dad realize that, the better I'll be." He fought the urge to slam the ice in his hand to the floor, knowing it might break into pieces and hit Don. Instead, he set it on the coffee table and laid the towel over the still damp skin. "I'm sorry. You'll have to finish it yourself."

He stood and practically ran for the stairs, leaving his brother staring at him in open-mouthed shock.

--

_He's under a lot of stress,_ Don repeated to himself for the tenth time in as many minutes. _That's why he left me halfway through the massage to dry myself off and put on my sling. He forgot that I can't really do that one-handed. That's got to be it._

Don sighed as he pressed his face into the couch cushions. That may have explained his little brother's behavior, but that certainly didn't excuse him leaving Don to try and fend for himself.

"Donny?"

He looked up from the couch at the sound of his name and found his father standing by his side, grocery bags in hand. "Dad," he greeted wearily.

"Did Charlie just..." Alan gestured with a grocery bag, "...Leave you lying here?"

"Pretty much," he sighed.

His father's face flushed with anger. "Just wait until I find him-"

"Hold up, Dad," Don stopped him. "I think seeing the injury up close like that brought back some unpleasant memories."

"He's been doing this all week – ever since you got home – with no problems. Why now?"

"I could tell it was upsetting him then, too. I should have said something before now but it came to a head before I could."

"It still doesn't excuse what he did, leaving you like that." Alan set down the bags and sat in the same spot Charlie had occupied earlier. "How much longer on the massage?"

"About five minutes," Don said as he smiled thankfully.

The two men were silent as Alan finished his son's care. After the allotted time was up, he gently toweled Don's shoulder dry and eased him into a seated position. Retrieving the sling from where Don had tossed it earlier, Alan carefully slid it over his son's head and eased the injured limb into it. As he stood, he subtly caressed the side of Don's head. "You're in pain," he commented.

"I am," his eldest son agreed as he wiped the faint sheen of sweat from his forehead. "I wouldn't argue with a painkiller about now."

"Did you overdo it?" Alan asked sternly as he brought Don's prescription bottle to him.

"No, ten minutes on the dot. Charlie made sure of that." Don popped a pill and dry-swallowed it before giving his father a reproachful look. "He showed me _my_ handcuffs, too."

_Oh_, Alan mouthed silently. "Well, I warned you that I wasn't above tying you down."

"So you did," Don sighed as he rested his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

"Go ahead and grab a few winks," Alan told him softly. "I'll make us all some dinner."

Don yawned and let himself drift off, content in the knowledge that one of his father's superb meals would be waiting for him when he woke up.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Don's eyes shot open and he lay in the bed, trying to determine what had disturbed his slumber. He concentrated in the dark and listened for any sound that might alert him to the feeling of unease creeping into his system. _Charlie,_ he suddenly thought. _Tonight's the night._

He groaned and, using only his good arm, struggled to sit up in bed. Don squinted at the alarm clock and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. _Any minute now,_ he thought as he waited silently.

"No!" He heard Charlie's muffled cry through the wall separating their bedrooms.

_It's almost scary how well I know him,_ Don idly thought. His father had told him growing up that he had an uncanny knack for sensing Charlie's distress and, purely on instinct, finding a way to soothe him and make his problems disappear. Don had blown off his father's words at the time, but as he had gotten older he'd begun to understand that his father had been absolutely right.

_Tonight is no exception,_ Don thought as he levered himself out of bed and quietly padded out of his room and into the hallway. He knew he'd woken up because it was time for Charlie to face his demons, and he was going to need every single bit of help Don could provide.

He slipped into his little brother's room and could just make out Charlie's outline in the dim moonlight coming from the bedroom window. His brother was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched with his gaze glued to the floor. Don silently walked around the bed and sank onto the mattress next to the younger man.

"You should be asleep," Charlie stated flatly.

"So should you," Don countered.

"_I'm_ not recovering from a major injury."

"No," Don agreed. "But you _are_ recovering from a major trauma."

"Not the same."

"No, yours is worse."

He lifted his gaze and met Don's eyes. "How do you figure that?"

"Surgery, pain meds and rehab can fix my hurt." Don lowered his voice and leaned close to his brother. "It's no so easy to fix yours."

Charlie mumbled unconvincingly, "I'm fine."

"Knock it off, Buddy." The words were harsh, but Don's tone was gentle. "I've been there before."

"Really?" the professor snorted. "You've led your brother into a death trap and then watched as some lunatic tries to kill him in front of you?"

"First," Don said sharply. "You did _not_ lead me into a death trap. You did what you had to do to get me help. I wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't. Got that?" Charlie shrugged, so Don grabbed his shoulder with his left hand and gave him a hard, borderline uncomfortable squeeze. "I said, _got that_?"

"Sure," Charlie replied half-heartedly.

"Second, I _have_ watched as some lunatic tried to kill my brother in front of me. Or are you forgetting the sniper case?"

Even in the dim light, Don could see Charlie's face grow pale. "I hadn't forgotten it," he whispered, his shaky voice almost inaudible.

"Then why'd you think I wouldn't understand that?" Don gave him a perplexed look as he tried to make a connection between their most recent ordeal and the sniper case.

"Never mind." Charlie dropped his gaze back to the floor and clenched his fists in his lap.

"Buddy," Don whispered pleadingly. "You've got to open up. I can tell – Dad can tell – that this is eating you up inside. Even if you don't want to talk to me, you need to talk to someone."

"I'm-"

"Don't you dare say fine," Don snapped angrily. "We had a string of horrendous cases and decided to take a vacation, I got hurt and you had to lead me to safety – which you _did_. You even managed to get us through a scrape with two different madmen. One might have been with a little luck, but the second was all your doing. We never would have escaped if you hadn't had the nerve to shoot him."

"I don't want to talk about it."

Realizing Charlie wasn't going to forgive himself without a shove in the right direction, Don changed tactics. "You know, Charlie," he quietly whispered. "I wish I'd never showed you how to fire a rifle. If I hadn't, you wouldn't be in this situation."

Charlie looked up in shock. "Don't say that," he whispered back. "If you hadn't shown me, then I couldn't have kept Gary from hurting you."

"But look at how depressed you are," Don responded. "I'm not sure it was worth it."

Charlie glared at Don through the pale moonlight. "Don't you ever say that again!" he yelled. "You're my brother and I would do anything for you!"

"Including kill a man if my life was in danger?"

Charlie sighed, flopping back on the mattress and studying the ceiling. "You make it sound so simple."

"It _is_ simple," Don told him. "The choice was simple – kill an evil man to save a loved one, that's a no-brainer. The act itself was more difficult because you haven't had the years of training like I have." Don carefully lay back next to his brother and placed his left hand over Charlie's. "It's the aftermath that's hard, even for me."

"Really?" Charlie inquired. "You still have a hard time with it?"

"God yes, Charlie. It's never easy to deal with killing someone, no matter how justified it is."

"How many men have you had to kill?"

"Charlie..."

"Please, Don," he begged. "I need to know."

Don gave a weary sigh as he studied the darkened ceiling. "Three."

"Three," the younger man repeated thoughtfully. "And you never get used to it?"

"Used to it?" Don asked in surprise. "No, I don't. And if I ever did, it would be time for me to find a new job." Don laced his fingers through his brother's and turned his head to study Charlie's profile. "But you can learn to deal with it. You _have_ to learn to deal with it if you're going to survive."

"How?" Charlie asked, sounding every bit like he did when he was five and Don could make him all better just by giving him a hug.

"Talk to someone. A professional, I mean. I hated the idea at first, but they really do help." Sensing Charlie's nervousness, Don smiled warmly. "I could get you in with one of the FBI's psychologists. Or I'm sure Megan would love to offer her help."

"I'm not sure about Megan," Charlie thought aloud. "I'm sure she'd be great, but she's such a good friend. I'd feel weird confessing my soul to her on a professional level."

"I can understand that," Don agreed. "I can see if I can get you in to see the one I talked to after I shot Chandler Yates."

Charlie couldn't suppress a shudder as he remembered the pervert who drugged women, killed them, and posed them to look like overdoses. Nor could he suppress a second shudder as he thought about how close he'd come to losing his brother then, too.

"Charlie?" Don asked worriedly.

"Sorry, just thinking. That sounds like a good idea Don. See if you can get me in."

"Glad to hear you say that." Don let out a loud yawn and started to rise. "I guess I should let you get back to sleep."

"Wait," Charlie said, grabbing Don's left forearm to stop him. "As long as you aren't too uncomfortable, maybe you could stay here."

Don tried to determine if that was a statement or a request, but then decided he didn't care. "Sounds good, Buddy. Just hand me a pillow."

Charlie grabbed a pillow and lifted Don's head, sliding it underneath. "How's that feel?"

"Much better," Don whispered.

"It is, isn't it?"

They both knew they were referring to something much more significant than sleeping arrangements and soon fell asleep, comforted in the knowledge that things were slowly getting back to normal.

The End


End file.
